Three Queens
by Boredguy618
Summary: Three students. Three blood types, three orphans. A wanderer, an outcast, and a vagrant. How will this story change when three powerful pieces are on the chessboard instead of one? DARK themes. Female Harry/Girl-Who-Lived. Currently undergoing edits.
1. Deliveries

**Chapter One: Deliveries**

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**Fair warning: this story is not for everyone. There will be bad things in it. Some people will die. Some people will murder. Some people will murder the people who die. Just so we're all on the same page. ****I don't condone murder, intense violence, arson, summoning demons, theft, or any of the other things in this story. They are bad things. That said, our heroes are bad people, so they will do these things and not give a Cornish Pixie.**

**This story will be VERY different from canon. Harry's a girl, if that isn't a clue that this isn't for the boxed in the book people, here's your sign. That being said, this story will also be realistic: so no, everything isn't always going to go in our heroes favor, Dumbledore isn't an idiot who gives himself away, Tom is a competent Dark Lord, and the wizarding world is going to be regressive, not asinine.**

**Thoughts are in _Italics._**

**Movie adaptation to be canceled indefinitely.**

**Please Enjoy.**

* * *

Minerva McGonagall was not having a good day.

Her position as Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts was taxing on a good day. Days like today left her wishing she could cozy down in her plush armchair with a glass of scotch and a well-written book. _Hell, days like today usually **end **with me drinking in my armchair._

The old battle-axe sighed as she double-checked her chosen coordinates. The quill that could pinpoint every student on their registry had never been wrong before, but today was a day for double-checking. It wasn't every day that prospective students' were displayed as 'Gothenberg, Sweden'.

The return answer they had received had instructions to meet inside of Gothenburg's Central Station. Given the unusual circumstances of these directions, Minerva was unnerved. Not much could get under her skin, but learning that the hero of magical Britain was living in a foreign country counted as one of the few things that could.

She activated her Ministry-provided portkey _Bless the Heavens they didn't want to know why she was going to Sweden _and felt the familiar jerk through her naval as she disappeared in a whirlwind of color. Her feet landed squarely inside the Station's lavatory.

Her tentative steps through the hustle and bustle of people rushing to get where they were going bolstered her resolve. Discreetly pulling out her wand, she carefully murmured 'Point Me' and weaved through the crowd to the designated meeting point.

She stopped next to the Western entrance and scanned the crowd for her charge. No child was leaning on the wall, or sitting nearby, or walking through the doors.

As she turned in circles, at a loss of what to do (perhaps she had gone to the incorrect location?) she felt a tap on her arm. A look down at the offending personage revealed a smiling preteen tapping at her hand, her red hair spilling like flames over her face.

"Aunty!" The girl smiled as she flicked her eyebrows, willing the Scotswoman to play along. "How've you been? Can you believe mamma and papa let me ride out to you all by myself?" She flashed a brilliant smile and tugged on her arm. "Let's get some lunch, I'm starving!"

Two lunch orders later and the duo sat inside one of the numerous restaurants in the lounge. She eyed the child as she scarfed down her hamburger and chips with little regard to decorum or proper table manners.

The redhead paused and took a gasp of air before sipping her drink in three… four gulps. She exhaled and turned her pupils upwards towards Minerva's displeased expression.

"Sorry, Miss." The last remaining Potter said, sitting back in her seat to look her in the eye. James' infamous grin, the one he would flash when he wanted to charm someone, spread across the girl's face. "I'm not used to having a full meal like this."

Minerva scrunched her brow in displeasure at the thought. "Understandable, Miss Potter. I hope you can give me a reasonable explanation as to why you are in this condition, in Sweden of all places."

The girl munched through a chip and nodded. "I ran away." She admitted freely. "Found out about teleportation, so I decided to do some sightseeing." The bangles on her arms clanged musically as she wiped her hands on her trousers. "Have you ever been to Romania? It's beautiful in the winter," the girl fumbled with her pack and teased a pickle slice in front of her bag. A white and brown striped head emerged from the depths and gently took the offering. It spared Minerva a glance before retreating into its hideout.

Minerva stared at the bag before turning her eyes onto the smiling redhead. "Miss Potter," she started again. "How in the world have you become efficient at long-range Apparition at age ten?"

The girl shrugged, dipping another chip into a dollop of catsup. She kept silent far too long. _Deciding how much to tell, is she? _Her heart wrenched as the girl shrunk in on herself. A memory of Lily in the same position after a vitriolic Christmas card from her sister in year three bloomed behind her eyes.

"My childhood was not very pleasant." _She says 'childhood' as if she is already beyond that stage. I wonder... _"When I ran away, I simply imagined being someplace else, somewhere far away, and wound up over here."

"I've been moving around ever since. Romania, Spain, Italy, Denmark… and I've been drifting through this country for the last six months or so. What I want to know is why I'm written down for a place like Hogwarts," she asked, another bite of hamburger disappearing into her mouth.

"Your name has been on the registrar since before you were born. Your parents were both alumni, and we would be extremely pleased if you returned home to accept your position."

The girl and woman sat in silence for a few minutes as the redhead thought it over. "Would Mozu be allowed to come?" the girl finally spoke as the serpent slithered from the bag to coil itself up her arm.

Minerva squinted through her glasses at the snake, who ignored her. "It seems to be enough of a familiar for me," she acquiesced. "Our pet rules take exception in these cases."

The girl nodded and took a slurp from her drink. "I don't suppose there is a charity check I can take off your hands, is there? Moving around so often doesn't provide that much savings."

_Oh, Merlin, she's crafty. First the snake, now this sneak? _James would have hung himself if his daughter went to Slytherin. "Your family vault back in Britain should have more than enough money for a school year." The Scotswoman held out a rough key and placed it securely in the child's hand. "Gringotts shouldn't allow you to tear through the entire vault; I believe there is a limit to your academic withdrawal."

"How do I get to Gringotts?" The redhead asked as she scrutinized the key, holding it up to the light.

"It's in Diagon Alley," Minerva replied. Her fears of leaving the girl with her aunt and uncle as Dumbledore instructed all those years ago were slowly coalescing into a terrible truth, itching in the back of her mind like a dog scratching at fleas. "Miss Potter, you do… know, about everything in our world, correct?"

The girl's face turned to exasperation as she barely refrained from rolling her eyes. "Why do you think I've been traveling so much?" She raised a hand and pulled the red strands aside to reveal a thin line, a faded lightning bolt on her forehead. "This marker managed to get enough attention enough times for me to know the story."

The redhead let her hair drop and swiftly unpacked a plastic tin from her bag. Placing the remainder of her food inside, she sealed the lid and stuffed it back into her bag. "It's been a pleasure, Miss McGonagall," the child said as she slung her belongings over a shoulder, careful to avoid crimping Mozu's body. "I'll see you in September." The girl spun on her heel and disappeared into thin air.

Minerva closed her mouth and pursed her lips. That girl was all of James inside Lily's body, through and through. Holly Potter was going to be a powerful child and a force to be reckoned with, she could feel it in her bones.

Shaking her head, the Scot checked to ensure nobody noticed the disapparition and looked down to see the remainder of her sandwich had been nicked by the scoundrel. In its place lay a napkin with a scribbled 'Thanks for the meal' next to a lopsided heart.

_It's going to be a long seven years._

* * *

Pomona Sprout felt like the day was becoming a bad one.

If you asked her, she'd much rather be at Hogwarts, in her greenhouse, working diligently on potting and pruning and relaxing. Playing around in the dirt wasn't for everyone, Pomona knew, but she found it soothing compared to any other form of stress relief.

And with precious little time until the school year started, the luxury of the empty greenhouses would soon be gone. Not that students who shared her passion were cumbersome to be around, but she didn't unwind quite as completely when students were nearby.

_Maybe this girl will have such passion. S_he turned and began to walk up the path to St. Agnes Foster Center. The sights of dead grass and empty flower beds smothered that optimism instantly. _Or maybe not._

She rang the doorbell and straightened the bottom of her pantsuit. Muggle clothing was abhorrent compared to the freedom robes provided, but Pomona did as was needed when scouting muggle-borns.

As one of the four heads of houses, she was (occasionally) tasked with introducing muggle-born students into the wizarding world. As a half-blood, she had the expertise that came through experience when compared to Minerva's proficiency through repetition.

The door opened to reveal a nun with a face sterner than even Minnie's stoicism who looked at her as if she were something icky that had been stepped in. "Who are you?" the woman's rough voice broke through the silence.

"Pomona Sprout," she said as she tapped her fingers idly against the lining of her pockets. "I'm here to inquire about a Hermione Granger?"

At the sound of the child's name, the nun's face went from disinterest to an attempt at a warm smile. "Miss Granger is upstairs. Are you a relative of hers?"

"I'm an old friend of the family," Pomona said. "Are you the sister in charge, Miss?"

"O'Leary," the sister clarified. "And our head sister is Sister Irene." She looked her up and down and jerked her head inside. "Come on and sit in the office. I'll bring her shortly."

Pomona followed Sister O'Leary into a back room to the left of the staircase. She thanked her guide as the lady walked away to locate Irene, and after her footfalls faded Pomona took the liberty of examining the office. The large cross hung on the wall was not unusual for an orphanage named after a saint, but the lack of any non-religious paraphernalia certainly was, at least in this age. Not a single book on the shelf was about children or for them, rather it was full of religious-based textbooks and what looked to be several copies of the Bible. Even the flowers potted on the shelf were a mixture of lilies and columbine flowers.

"Mrs. Sprout?" A haggard, elderly voice wheezed from behind her. She managed a partial turn in her chair to see another nun standing in the doorway to the office. "I'm Sister Irene," the nun managed as she slowly walked to her chair. Only after settling in it did she continue. "I hear that you wish to enquire about one of our charges?"

Pomona nodded. "Miss Hermione Granger. She was—" She stopped as Sister Irene slowly raised a hand. "Are you related to her?" The elderly woman asked in a tone that brokered no worming around the question.

"No," Pomona felt the plane of the conversation shift at her admission. "However, I am a professor at our boarding school. Miss Granger's parents have had her name down since the day she was born." The Herbology professor studied Sister Irene's face silently as she pulled the falsified documents from her briefcase and laid them on the table in front of Sister Irene.

The nun leaned forwards as she pulled a pair of obscene reading glasses to study the documents. As soon as she touched the paper, Pomona sighed internally as Sister Irene's posture relaxed and her eyes glazed over. Compulsion charms were one of the many, many illegal things a wizard could do to a muggle, but the Department of Education still saw it as a means to an end, if it helped get children into their world and away from the mundane one.

Sister Irene nodded. "The county will not provide funds of this magnitude." She murmured slowly. At her upwards glance, Pomona could tell the woman was trying to wrestle down a 'no' as her mind was weighed against magic.

"We have scholarships," She suggested, turning through the pages. "I'm certain that Miss Granger will be able to receive any necessary funds through it." A flashed smile did nothing to raise one on Irene's face. "She will have to return during the summer, I'm afraid, but her time at Thornwood goes from September until June."

Irene nodded and let out a sigh that sounded like the wind blowing dry leaves. "I suppose this school could work for her." The nun furrowed her brow as she rose from examining the documents. "Lord knows things didn't work out well with our teachers."

"She is a problem student?"

"A model student, at least at first," Irene gave another sigh. "Unfortunately, Hermione was a prodigy. Classes failed to stimulate her, and that would give way to several… incidents." The last word was uttered with all the reverence of a death omen.

"What sorts of incidents?" _Accidental magic, no doubt._

"Her school reported to us that she threw her desk against the wall one day in her third year," Irene scoffed, disbelief ringing in her voice. "Hermione swore to St. Peter that she didn't touch her desk, but it's not like God decided to throw it at the wall, is it?"

"I suppose not."

"The other children were often bullied by her," Irene continued. "A whole range of incidents, some normal things mind you, but then she took a pair of scissors to one of Sarah Abarthanthy's outfits. And then, a little under two years ago, she set fire to the bedsheets one evening with a box of matches." Irene shook her head and rose from her chair. "No, the girl is not suited for a typical classroom. Perhaps some time in a fresh environment will get her head back on right. Come after me, and you can ask her what she thinks of all this."

The pair went upstairs and turned right at the banister as Irene led the way to the door furthest from the door looked more like a closet than a renovated room, a padlock barring the room from entry.

"You have five minutes," Irene said as she reached into her robes, her hand emerging with a small keyring. She undid the lock, gave a curt nod, and marched away.

Pomona took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Inside sat one lonely bed with a dresser table next to it. The room was illuminated by a thin window high from the reach of a child and the piercing light of an elderly lamp whose lampshade had met one too many moths in its time.

The dreary room was too small for any sort of comfort. The bed scraped the edges of the wall, its sheets tucked with precision despite the apparent lack of room to do so.

And in the center of it all sat the girl. The room gave no focal point besides her form. She sat with her legs crossed in a pleated skirt and white collared shirt. Her hair rested over her shoulders and demure expression on her face.

Pomona shut the door and wandlessly silenced the room. "Miss Hermione Granger?"

The girl bowed her head. "Are you here to adopt me?"

"I'm afraid not, my dear," She replied, a contrite smile on her face. "I am a professor at a boarding school in Scotland called Thornwood." The girl tilted her head. "You have been signed on to attend since birth."

Miss Granger's plain expression perked at her words. "Hogwarts, correct?" The girl smiled at the woman's shock. "I must congratulate you, professor. Anyone who can safely navigate through a conversation with Sister Irene has my respect."

"You know of Hogwarts?"

A thin smile formed on the girl's lips. "I know that any institution that sees fit to send a barrage of postage must have a deep desire to gain me as a pupil." The smile grew teeth and a cheerfulness that did not reach the eyes. "Of course, such letters sent to a facility such as this—by an owl, no less—is not exactly a way to get into my good graces."

_Dear Merlin,_ Pomona paled as she weeded through the girl's insinuations. _They wouldn't punish her for something like that, would they?_

Miss Granger's laugh rang in echoes in her chamber. "Color up, professor. None of those letters were read by the staff members. After I wrote the first one to myself as means of a game, I simply erased the others from arriving and causing more trouble."

_Erased? Perhaps she means she vanished them. So much for finding the missing owls. _She grimaced. "I apologize for any trouble that we have caused you in this home, Miss Granger." The girl's smile shrank into a humorless curve as Pomona opened her briefcase and withdrew a copy of her acceptance letter.

Miss Granger accepted it with an open hand. "Where is Diagon Alley, exactly?" she asked as she placed the envelope next to her on the bedspread.

"Charing Cross. Find the sign for The Leaky Cauldron and ask for Tom. He'll get you across and into the alley." Pomona smiled. "If you'd like, I can arrange a day to come take you there—"

"Thank you for the offer, professor, but I'd prefer to go by myself." The brunette cut her off quickly. "Although, if you could do me a favor and make these papers invisible, or something along those lines?" The girl held up her book list, acceptance letter, and train ticket, all three freed from the envelope.

_I never even saw her open the letter._ Pomona shelved her thoughts and nodded. A tap from her wand and the papers glowed with brief blue light. "That was an aversion charm, Miss Granger. Muggles, that is, non-magical beings will be unable to see them now." The girl slipped the letter into her dresser and returned to the same position she had been in when she entered.

"And am I to presume that there is some form of scholarship fund available?"

"In Gringotts, our Wizarding Bank. Once you reach the teller, ask about the Hogwarts fund for the underprivileged." The girl nodded. "It was nice meeting with you, professor." She gave another humorless smile and shook Pomona's hand. "I look forward to having you as a teacher."

Pomona dismissed her Imperturbable Charm as the door opened. "And I shall look forward to seeing you in my class." She turned and walked past a dumbfounded Sister Irene before excusing herself out of that horrid building, unhappy with this glimpse into the state of the muggle world. A care home of hate and despair that might be raising magical children to fear themselves? That might be happening not just here, but all across the country, or the whole wizarding world?

Albus needed to hear about this.

* * *

Severus Snape was having a very bad day.

For some ungodly reason, he was dragged from his private laboratory in Hogwarts to 'fulfill his proper duty as a Head of House'. Why McGonagall couldn't complete this visit and the subsequent indoctrination from the muggle world to theirs, he had no idea. At least she hadn't assigned him James' spawn; it would have been too much to bear.

He only relented because of the name on the damnable letter. 'Ms. Daphne Greengrass, The Blind Tiger, Tyndall Street, Cardiff, Wales.'

The Greengrasses were an extinct Pureblood family. One of the few members on the Wizengamot's Dark Sect that weren't part of his old crew from the war. To think that they had a child somewhere, hidden away from the world, the muggle world especially… it was a miracle.

He examined the destination from across the street. A warded building meant someone was trying very hard to keep somewhere hidden, but the yellow neon boasting the business name beside a tiger's face did everything to counter that train of thought. What was more intriguing was the number of muggles who couldn't see the building. Content passersby walked between the shops on either side of the three-storied building without any glances towards the blazing street-sign, and only one man had entered the compound so far.

The man stepped out, shutting the door behind him. He gave a quick glance around and rose his hand to his nose in a motion Severus immediately recognized from his childhood at Spinner's end.

Severus quickly stepped across the street and rapped on the front door, ignoring the stares from the people around him. The door opened a crack and a small child with hazel eyes peered through the doorway. "We're not open yet," the girl yawned out. "Come back around seven."

"I need to speak with Miss Greengrass," He stated calmly, his mind running through the possibilities of the building's true purpose. What looked like a townhouse and was advertised as a bar could definitely hold a darker purpose inside. "It is imperative that I speak with her."

The eye squinted at him. "You aren't a bobby, are you?"

He frowned. "No, I am not. May I please speak with Miss Greengrass?"

"Astoria, go back to bed." A commanding voice sounded from the other side of the door. "I'll take care of this." The eye looked away from him before the door shut again and the chain was undone.

The door yielded to reveal the young girl in question, posed with a hand on her hip. Her short, choppy haircut was frazzled from sweat. "You're the Hogwarts representative right?" she asked, hand on her hip. At his nod, she scoffed and turned. "Come on in. And lock the door behind you!"

Severus did as he was told and followed the girl into a thin hallway. Peering into the door on his right, he saw a crowded mess of tables, their chairs resting on top of them. A bar counter stood against the far wall, bottles arranged on the shelves and countertop gleaming. A regular bar, placed under secretive wards? That muggle must have been here for more than that.

He hastened to catch up with his guide.

The room she stepped into was identical to the one he had seen. Chairs sat underneath scrubbed tables. Silent speakers hung in the corners of the room, and a muggle television played a football match from the corner nearest to the bar. He watched it for a minute before the image clicked off.

"Grab anything you'd like," said the Greengrass heiress as she tucked the remote beneath the bar. Despite the strong inclination to do so, he did not take the young lady up on her offer and instead took a seat on one of the bar stools.

The young witch rested her chin on her hands and leaned forward to rest on the buffet. "Are you sure you don't want anything?"

"No thank you," He replied stiffly. Greengrass shrugged and pulled a bottle off the shelf. The clink of glass focused his attention on the two liquor glasses she poured. She took one and rested her hip against the back of the countertop.

He cautiously accepted his glass and cleared his throat. "So… you are accepting your position in Hogwarts?"

"Why should I?" Greengrass plugged the bottle's stopper back in and raised her glass. "I think I'm doing very well for myself at the moment."

"You are a pureblood witch," He argued while she drained her glass. "And as a member of a house that was formerly thought to be extinct, your appearance is something that cannot be ignored."

The dark-haired girl studied his face for too many minutes of silence before nodding. She bounced off the counter, straightening to look him in the eye. "What does your school teach?"

"Astronomy, Herbology, Transfiguration, Potions, History of Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Charms."

"No mathematics?" The girl snickered, raising her glass to her lips for a second time.

_This is preposterous._ _Why act so against the idea of going if you are this interested in the coursework?_

His mind caught up with hers. She_ wanted the truth._ Rather than waste time talking around the point, she acted in a way to get the truth quickly. He took a short sip from his drink. _Well played._

"Sounds interesting enough," said Greengrass. "What is a pureblood, by the way?"

"Wizards and witches whose parents are magical," he said. "Certain wizards believe that muggles, non-magical people, are an inhuman blight on the world."

"Were my parents like that?" Greengrass asked, with all the disinterest as if she was discussing the weather.

"No, they were not," Severus replied. "At least, they were not vocal bigots."

"And there are a lot of those in this… magical world?" Greengrass snickered at his discomfort. Mercifully, she dropped the subject. "What do I gain by attending?"

"Aside from education, Hogwarts provides food and lodging for the year. You can stay at Hogwarts during the breaks if you wish."

"And how would I pay for the tuition?"

"The wizarding bank, Gringotts, will allow you to access your family vaults. Though the goblins will likely want to test your blood before they give you the key."

"You're saying I'm rich," Greengrass asked as she played with the rim of her glass.

"Your family was very old money, yes."

"Then I suppose I must accept my position." She said as she rapped her fingers on the bar. "However, I do have some… conditions."

"I will not attend your school unless there is someplace safe for my sister to stay." At Severus's lack of an objection, she continued "I will personally ensure that she is being well treated in this place." Greengrass spread her teeth in a wide smile, showing off just enough to be unsettling.

"Does that sound agreeable to you?"

He nodded slowly. "I believe I know just the person. She is another old money family member." He hesitated. "I'm sure she would not object to tutoring you in pureblood behavior and things of that nature."

Greengrass gave a false laugh. It rang loud in the quiet showroom. "You wound me, sir. I'm certain my time in this world has given me plenty of skills in etiquette." She grinned darkly at him. "Bring your contact by here tonight at five. My sister and I will meet you outside then." She stretched out her hand. "Agreed?"

He sighed. It would be a chore to get Narcissa on board with this deal so quickly, but she would be convinced. She was not one to resist temptation, and having a hand in the return of the Greengrass bloodline to wizard-kind? That was delectable bait. No self-respecting pureblood would let the opportunity pass by.

He rose and withdrew her envelope from his coat pocket. "Your letter. We'll be outside at five o'clock tonight."

Severus felt her eyes watching him as he walked to the hallway and out of the building. As soon as he was beyond the range of the wards, he turned on his heel and vanished with a crack. He had some persuading to do.


	2. Discussions

**Chapter Two: Discussions**

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**By the way, I am American, so any British slang I know is mostly through pop culture. I do have a British-obsessed friend I run things by, but if anyone sees me using the wrong word, feel free to let me know.**

**New car smell not included.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Minerva McGonagall's return trip weighed much more heavily on her heart (and her stomach, but portkeys always did that) as she landed inside the Ministry's Department of Transportation. After returning the badge she had been authorized, she impatiently weaved her way out of the hive to the entrance hall. _You'd think the elevator music was __**designed**__ to irritate you if you were in a hurry._

Stepping through a floo, her shoes snapped along the flames until she emerged in her office grate. A brief minute to compose herself, and she was on the warpath to locate Albus.

Years of doubt were eating away at her mind. Albus had sworn that Holly's relatives would be the safest place for her to stay. It seemed the old man only thought of protecting bad things from getting in, without protecting Holly from bad things already inside.

Her blood boiled in her veins. If those muggles had done anything, anything to harm the child of Lily and James Potter, she would turn them over to Child Servicers or whatever it was Pomona had studied at muggle university before returning as a teacher. She had half a mind to visit them and take matters into her own hands…

"Password," the gargoyle ground out from his post.

"Cauldron Cake." The creature sprung to the side and Minerva continued her march up the spiral staircase. She flung the door open and prepared to lay into Albus as she noticed Pomona inside the room. Her words died in her throat.

"Minerva, my dear," Albus murmured, his voice thick with false sorrow. "What is so important that it warrants bursting down my door?" The edges of his beard twitched as his grandfatherly smile grew.

She sighed. "Nothing so important I must run you away from a meeting." She fiddled with her cardigan. "It's about Holly Potter."

Albus leaned back in his chair as Pomona turned and provided a cheerful smile. "The meeting with her went well, then?"

Minerva sat in the armchair next to the Herbology professor. "It was like looking back in time." Her smile grew fonder at the memories of her two notorious students. "She is going to be just like her father."

"Well bully your voyage went well for you," Pomona chuffed. "As I was just telling Albus, the girl I was sent to isn't having a pleasant time in the muggle world." Her eyes turned back to the Headmaster. "She's stuck in a restrictive orphanage. That's why she never sent in a response, the poor girl was punished anytime a letter cropped up!"

"Then what happened to the other owls?" Albus asked.

Pomona wiggled uncomfortably. "I didn't quite ask her about that, but she said that she vanished all of her subsequent letters before they could arrive and get her in more trouble." Albus frowned at the implication as he passed her the dish of lemon drops. She declined.

"We need to replace two of our owls, then," sighed the Headmaster as he slipped one of the sweets into his mouth. Minerva refrained from rolling her eyes. The old man's attempts to lace the conversation with humor were not helping.

"That's not the most pressing issue, Albus." _Bless you, Pomona. _The herbologist had so much more patience for the Headmaster's antics than she did. "The record the home's head provided suggests that her accidental magic itself was punished. And if it wasn't enough, the poor dear is locked in a separate room, isolated from the other children, for her accidents being perceived as bad behavior! She might well have grown up to fear magic!"

The chilling accusation raced through the room like frost. Even Albus's phoenix seemed to dim at the thought, trilling lowly.

Minerva sat aghast; her mouth open. "A child raised to fear magic?" This was an unthinkable event. A student, afraid to complete her spells? A student who may never learn the control and wonder of their world because she was raised against it from childhood? Even Albus understood the gravity of the idea as he dropped his grandfatherly persona like an old hat.

Pomona nodded. "Thankfully, Miss Granger seems to embrace her magical heritage rather than shun it. She accepted her position."

Relief flooded the lines on Albus's face. "That is good news. She might see her magic as something that makes her special, dare I say, better than others."

"Apart from her turning down my offer to take her to Diagon, she portrayed no narcissistic tendencies. The poor dear was unfailingly polite and mild-mannered. She might have some trouble expressing emotions, but other than that, she seems to be a perfectly normal child."

"The problem is what happens to other children like her—magical children in muggle orphanages—who aren't able to rise above." Sprout looked between her and Albus with worry pinching at her features. "Perhaps you could bring this sort of discussion to the next ICW meeting?"

Albus gave a solemn nod. "The gap between our worlds is already divided by a chasm. To push magical children towards jumping onto our side when they are unwilling to fly is a model for catastrophe." He pulled out a quill and began writing notes in his loopy scrawl. "I will bring this up with my fellow constituents. Perhaps we can think of a solution to better these children."

"Thank you, Albus." Pomona smiled at Minerva as she left the office. "I'll be in the greenhouses if you need me."

Minerva waited for Albus to finish his notes before speaking. He laid down his quill and gave a weary sigh. "Did things go better with Miss Potter?"

"She's in a better position than Pomona's student," she replied. "She mastered apparition at age six or seven and has been traveling all across Europe ever since."

Albus frowned. "She? What about her relatives?"

Her face tightened. "I believe they are still in Little Winging. She didn't say much about them other than her childhood was not the best." At Albus's worried eyes she shoved down her desire to say 'I told you so'; it would be childish.

"She's been drifting around the continent, alone for however many years?" whispered the Headmaster.

"I'm afraid so."

"But she agreed to attend Hogwarts?"

"She did, but she will be an atypical student." Minerva cautioned. The bangles Holly Potter had worn were similar to pictures she had seen of Romani channelers, secondary foci that was rarely used outside of Britain. Almost everyone in the United Kingdom used wands, staves, or other beam-based foci to form their magic. Having a student who worked without one would be a challenge. "Her ability to apparate, along with her studies in magic might place her ahead in some subjects and far behind in others."

"Then we can trust that she will have a firm foundation to begin anew."

Minerva removed her glasses from her face to pinch the bridge of her nose and nodded. "I suppose I should go warn Severus about her. She's the spitting image of Lily, but her mischievous personality might drive him to see him as a sister to James." She laid her hand on the armrest to slump against the back of the chair. "Has he returned from hunting down Miss Greengrass?"

"Not yet," Albus replied, stroking his beard. "For the life of me, I cannot think of what might be taking so long."

* * *

Severus tossed a handful of floo powder and called the name for one of his least favorite places. Despite being godfather to the boy who lived therein, Malfoy Manor was a place he preferred to visit as little as possible. His actions in the war had strained his relationship with Lucius too much for it to be anything more than a polite acquaintance.

He emerged in their mudroom and waited for one of their elves to direct him to where he would be meeting the lady of the house.

It wasn't a long wait. One of the older house elves, Eban, appeared before him and led the way. Following the miserable creature through the household, he was surprised when they walked past the drawing-room. He did not expect to be taken to Narcissa's office parlor. Most purebloods kept their offices charmed for themselves alone.

Maybe he was more a friend to the family than he remembered being.

Narcissa sat at her desk, sorting through a pile of parchment about who knows what. She spared him a glance at the sound of the door and immediately laid her quill on the desk.

"Severus, how lovely to see you," she hummed as she banished the parchment-work into the cabinets beside her. "If you are here to see Lucius, I'm afraid he is out today."

"Drop the act, Narcissa," he countered, a rare smile on his face. "You know full well I don't actively try to visit him."

"I am constantly reminded of it," Narcissa gestured for him to sit in an armchair as she settled in its twin. "Lucius complains about your absence often enough. Which reminds me, he's thinking of asking you to help Draco with the basics of potions before term starts."

He sighed. "I'll do my best to schedule some free time." He waited for Narcissa to seat herself before talking. "I have a business opportunity for you."

The former Black straightened in her chair, her earrings wiggling. "Is that so?" She snapped her fingers and a tray of glasses, ice, and a bottle of bourbon appeared. "Care for any?"

"No, thank you." _How drunk is the universe trying to get me today?_ Narcissa nodded as the ice tongs levitated two cubes into a glass. The bottle followed soon after. "We've found a Greengrass."

Narcissa's arm froze, her glass halfway to her mouth. She placed the drink down, her attention on him alone. "You've found a Greengrass."

"Apparently, they were not all dead," he watched, practically able to hear the gears racing over the implications of his words.

"Where is she then? Sequestered in their vacation home?"

"No, she's…" he braced himself. "She's in the muggle world," Ignoring the woman's twitching eyebrow he continued. "She's currently at a drug house fronting as a bar establishment in Wales."

"A drug house?" He stifled a chuckle at her dedication to a blank face. _The fire in her tone could roast a hippogriff._

Rather than continue explaining his idea for the Greengrass's future, he waited until Narcissa had composed herself. She was not known for a violent temperament like her eldest sister, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't turn vicious if sufficiently provoked.

"What is being done about this situation, Severus?" Narcissa stared him in the eye. "Don't tell me that Dumbledore is trying to keep her imprisoned there until the school year begins."

He shook his head. "I haven't reported her acceptance yet. She is willing to attend Hogwarts, on one condition: her sister must be given a safe home to live in while she is at school."

"The political acumen from providing shelter to them would be enormous," the witch murmured. "Not to mention the subtle steering those who took them in could accomplish…"

"I suggested you to her." Narcissa looked at him with faux surprise.

"Me?"

"Your background as a Black will ensure that she learns everything she needs to about our world. The intricacies, the Houses, the government, everything she doesn't know currently. Everyone will be happy. The light sect can be convinced that she has muggle sympathies, thus making an avenue for them to enter the dark sect. The dark sect would rejoice in that a dead house is being restored by one of their eldest."

He paused. "There is also no one else that would raise them fairly. A light family will see her as a pawn to nudge into battle. A dark one would scorn them for not knowing what they never have; with no choices for their own destiny." He studied her face, resisting the urge to delve into her mind. "Please, Narcissa."

"Why did your mind go to me over Dumbledore?" _I knew she would find a way to look this gift horse in the mouth._

"He would push them towards the light. You know he cannot resist potential pawns. Everyone else: the Davises, the Notts, they would all try to absorb them." He looked the blonde witch in her eyes, knowing full well that an appeal over 'saving tradition' was the strike that would convince her. "You are the only pureblood who will keep her word. You alone will work to their benefit, rather than focus on the spoils of charity."

"Lucius will try to sink his claws into them," Narcissa protested. "I can not guarantee that he will not try to manipulate them. He would do anything to have a third seat on the Wizengamot, and a second seat of the twenty-eight?"

"That's why you will swear on your maiden name to keep them safe." At her steely glare, he explained. "I know how much that name means to you. You will promise the best chance at saving a dead house that you can give them."

At Narcissa's nod, he relaxed into the cushion of the chair. The first part of his detail was complete. "Now what?" Narcissa asked.

"Now we must go pick them up."

* * *

Daphne eyed the piles she had laid out on her bedspread. Her clothes needed to be packed first. Two shirts, one blouse, her jacket, her good pants, all folded as small as she could get them, all bought through Nikki's tips since her role as dishwasher/bar cleaner didn't earn anything. Louie's idea of payment was limited to a list of "food, utilities, and the roof". At least they had a roof; Rook's idea of a roof had been 'anywhere dry'.

The second pile was the few things she had collected over the years of wandering with Astoria. Books for Mathematics and English, all stolen from a library in Radforshire, along with Astoria's copy of Alice in Wonderland (also stolen). Trinkets of sentimental value like her switchblade, Christmas gifts from their street gang they ran with before finding The Tiger, and the silver necklace she had refused to pawn. Astoria's clothes somewhat larger pile was beside it.

The door creaked open behind her. "Daph?" Astoria called as she pushed the door open. "Louie's looking for you."

"He's not going to find us," she muttered, cramming the books into her duffel bag. "Come make sure I found all your stuff."

Her sister did as she was told, carefully shutting the door behind her. "We're leaving again?"

"Yes," Daphne said as she slipped her clothes in around the books. "You remember that odd letter I showed you?" At her sister's nod, she resumed packing. "They offered to give us a place to stay with them. Somewhere safe."

"I thought they were only giving you a place at the school?"

"They are, but they offered to give you a place to live. So we're leaving."

Astoria huffed. "I don't want to leave Nikki again,"

Daphne suppressed a sigh of irritation. Her sister wasn't the one who could remember their early days on the streets. Just because people were nice somewhere didn't mean one should stay there.

"Tough luck," she finally said as she tied the pillowcase's mouth into a firm knot. "We're getting a hell of a deal out of this. You are getting a place to stay where you don't have to work with this poison anymore. I'm sorry that we're leaving Nikki behind—"

"That's what you said when we left Rook—"

"But I want you to grow up safe," Dahne talked over her sister's interruption. "Where you can be a kid and don't have to make your living stealing or working in a front for grit."

Astoria's stubborn frown faded into a low frown. "Fine."

Daphne rubbed her sister's head. "You can say goodbye to Nikki, but then we're leaving."

The two walked to the backroom, bags over their shoulders. The Blind Tiger made a third of its money at its bar from seven-thirty to four, but its true profit came from the steam engine in the back. Louie ran a tight ship on his cocaine production; and had long ago decided that the easiest way to get more made and more buyers were through teenagers. Runaways from troubled homes were less likely to complain about his work conditions when they received food, a roof, and escape. Not to mention how some could be bought with what they worked and made in house.

Daphne desperately wanted to know how Nikki's conversation with Louie about hiring them on as bar staff had gone. If it hadn't been for the magic she could do, her magic refills cutting costs on expenses, she doubted he would have kept them on.

"If you lose another package, you can expect to be moved off the payroll next week, Dinah!" Her voucher reprimanded the sixteen-year-old blonde. "Go sleep it off, you aren't delivering anything else today." Dinah nodded, her jaw clenched in a scowl, and left the backroom for the stairwell, glaring at the universe as she went.

Nikki pulled her face from her hands as they stepped into Nikki's 'office'. "Daphne, I need you to refill the cases in the basement." The nineteen-year-old trailed off as she spotted their bags. "You're going somewhere?"

"Sorry for the short notice, Nikki," She smiled at her mentor as she tightened her hold on the bag. "But we're going. The man you heard me with earlier today is a solicitor who knew our parents. He's coming to get us in four minutes."

Nikki sighed as she rose from her seat. Despite the position they were leaving her in, the blonde managed to smile at her. "I'm going to miss you, Daphne." She pulled the younger girl into a hug. "Don't you fall off the wagon."

"Let's not make a big production out of this," Daphne rolled her eyes as the arms embraced her. Nikki was her eldest contact, having taught her the ins and outs of the street life when she and Astoria crashed into the gutter half a decade ago. The pair had been through almost everything together until Daphne splintered away in her mess involving Rook. Despite that, Nikki had taken her back with open arms.

She never got used to the feeling of guilt at all the trouble she had caused her.

"You'll miss me too, right?" Astoria chirped as Nikki kneeled to hug her.

"Of course, sweetie." Nikki flashed her sister a brilliant smile. "I hope you give your sister just enough of a hard time for me."

"I will."

"Alright, let's go," _before Louie finds us and throws a fit._ As she turned, Nikki grabbed hold of her arm.

"You're leaving your magic thingies up and running, right?"

"Anything to keep you safe," she nodded. "I've still got my burner. You ever need me, I'll be there."

The older girl smiled and leaned over to kiss her on the forehead.

"Isn't that a pretty sight." _Damnit._

Louie stood in the doorway. His arms crossed over his chest. "What makes you two think you can up and leave right in the middle of our work week?" He drawled out as he walked down the row of tables. His boots clinked as he made a beeline for the two girls. "Because you aren't. Put your stuff down and we can talk this over." His face morphed into the one he used when he was playing for 'no argument'.

Daphne smiled sweetly. "No thank you, Louie. We're leaving. Be grateful I'm not trying to haggle for a paycheck."

Louie chuckled. "I might smile like an angel, but I sure as hell ain't one." He dropped his false humor for a frown. "Y'all ain't leaving. You know how much costs will go up if you're not here helping things along?"

"Don't care." Her anger pulsed, ready to roar and she pushed it down. She needed to keep this fight calm; Louie liked being rational. "I'm leaving you with our money. I'm leaving the wards up. I've even set up a magic charm on the bar to automatically refill everything at six every morning." _Hopefully. _The etching she had made was nowhere close to her successful magics, and she had no clue whether it would work or not.

"Unless you want me to take them down before I go," Louie's face grimaced. He hadn't thought of that. "Or we can leave, and I'll come to call if you need any help with my special abilities." Daphne inclined her head, knowing she had him cornered. "How's that?"

Louie frowned at her a second longer before his face broke into a wide grin. "Always a step ahead, huh girlie?" He laughed. "Deal. You'd better inform me if you change burner numbers."

As he left the office to go smoke, she turned to Nikki. "That went better than I thought it would."

Nikki raised an eyebrow. "You thought ahead?" At Daphne's mock glare, she gave her a farewell kiss on her head. "Stay clean,"

"I will," Daphne promised. Taking Astoria's hand, she walked back through the hallways and out the front door. The Hogwarts professor and his friend (a blonde socialite, judging by her clothing) stood across the street as promised.

The door shut behind her as she walked her sister toward a true fresh start.

* * *

Hermione Granger had always known she was an unusual child. Being able to pop lightbulbs when angered was a clue. Despite all reason suggesting a power surge, Hermione knew it was her that caused the school's lights to shatter that day. She knew that she somehow threw the desk, and started the fire in the girl's room, back when she was allowed in there.

She had never considered her abilities to be magical during those incidents. Having grown up in St. Agnes, where fantasy books of any sort were banned, she had never chalked her abilities up to 'magic', not until she met Cress.

He talked about magic often enough, but he hadn't been on the mortal plane since the Great Fire of London. His accounts of magic were not exactly reliable. It seemed like a forgotten culture; a cache of knowledge purposely buried and abandoned. Something reimagined and written about in books. Nothing more than words designed to entertain a reader. Pure fiction.

She had been ecstatic to learn that magic wasn't lost to time as she had thought.

Cress had been helping her with her 'magic' ever since she accidentally bound him to her. She assumed it was simply part of their power exchange: as he subsisted off of her soul, she was gifted with abilities beyond comprehension. But before then, well... she didn't really have a reason for how she did what she did.

Growing up in the wretched house that was St. Agnes, a painted paragon of virtue with an underbelly of misery, what else was she supposed to think? Instead of bedtime stories about talking animals and chocolate factories, she and the other children were subjected to stories about the might of God. Forced to memorize and recite prayers. And woe to those who were noncompliant.

She was one of the few listed as such. She was nice at first, back before she had met Cress. With St. Agnes as the only place she ever knew, it seemed reasonable enough for the bar to be so high. Her schoolwork was immaculate, her mannerisms perfect, all up until her incident with the desk.

After it, the sisters turned on her. She was trapped under mounting pressure, with harsh looks and constant reprimands. She was no longer their golden child.

It took her too long to realize the bar had not been moved. She was simply no longer seen as fit to be on the scale.

Instead, she was the outcast. No longer permitted on day trips, her spare time was spent inside the chapel for 'religious studies'. How did God take victory over satan in the book of Job? What form did satan take when he visited Jesus in the Synoptic Gospels? Questions repeated day after day, with a pattern emerging from the woodwork. Her 'studies' were constant examples of how demons failed.

Freedom was not unobtainable, however. Library excursions while skiving her classes, small victories in conversation with the sisters. She managed to run away for a week and a half; caught and returned by the police after watching one street fight for too long.

The other children found it hilarious. Her previous heights had made them look worse by comparison, and now they had their revenge. The sisters' actions soon blossomed into the simple rumor. "Granger's got the devil in her." With her social standing in dead last, they were free to demean her without any interference from the staff. Their teasing names changed from 'bookworm' and 'know it all' to 'heretic' and 'Rosemary's baby'.

The name-calling was of no consequence. It was their actions that ruined her. Messing up her bed so it would be in disarray during inspections, spitballs in her hair, red paint on her clothes, destroying her books. Their harassment resulted in punishments from the sisters, and their _stories_. "Granger pushed me down the stairs!" "Granger, won't stop pulling my hair." "If something broke, don't look at me. Granger's the one who did it."

The mantra led to punishment after punishment. After she was caught crying in the lavatory by Sarah Abernathy, she resolved to never react again. Her cheer faded as she waves beat against her, but she did not break. That came later.

After an exhaustive day inside the chapel with Sister Irene, she was shoved into her night table by Sarah. Her anger had burned like a roaring furnace at her words "What are you going to do, Granger? Don't forget, any scratch on me will make trouble for you." Her rage had writhed and her skin had prickled as Sarah's bed combusted.

The fire incident sealed her fate at nine years old. Sister O'Leary went so far as to 'exorcise' her, which didn't do anything. She lost her rights to the yard and desert, forced to sleep in an old closet that would be locked from the outside every night.

No angels ever brought her salvation. They didn't take wing or lift fingers to dispose of this poisonous home that beat children into submission before an all-mighty power that never cared about them.

So, she had turned to the other side of the coin. The demons.

After spending a week off from classes at the public library, Hermione had concluded her attempt fruitless. That demons were as fictional as angels.

Then she found it. A book tucked away in the library's theology section. The book itself was nothing more than intellectual posturing on how the demonic realm worked, but someone had left their notes on summoning rituals in the inside cover.

Her eidetic memory had the symbols dancing across her eyelids for days. She dreamed of what would happen when she completed her ritual, of burning St. Agnes to the ground with everyone still inside.

And then she did it. She summoned a demon.

Unfortunately, she couldn't just order him around. Pacts were based on partnership, not servitude. She couldn't force him to destroy the care home like she often dreamed; he would need something to draw strength from first. It was an amusing misconception; the power Sister Irene had claimed demons possessed.

"You can show yourself now."

Cress dropped his invisibility to reveal his place hovering above the headboard. "I told you Hogwarts was still around." His raspy growl radiated satisfaction.

"Don't be smug," she chastised as she leaned back on her bed. Cress's extrasensory perception had picked up on the professor's visit, and she had the barest amount of time to present herself as a prim and proper young lady before the visitation. An image of innocence was one of worth, she had nearly managed to be adopted and taken away three times before the sisters suggested 'better candidates'. No one wanted a problem child.

Cress laughed. "It will be nice to see that castle again, and Diagon Alley. I wonder if the Ollivander's are still in business?"

"We'll go sometime soon," Hermione murmured. The ritual that had bound Cress to her meant that he couldn't wander the world on his own, or she would send him to collect her supplies, no bother. They were two beings tied together, joined at the hip. It made him restless.

"And you'll finally learn real magic," he grinned. "No more of these reactionary sparks. Soon you will be a roaring bonfire, an expert in the arts." He shuddered, the corners of his maw turned up. "I wonder how different you'll taste then?"

She ignored him. Her mind was busy plotting the best way to get to Charing Cross without being noticed missing. "Are demons accepted in the magical world, Cress?"

Cress frowned at her nickname for him. He hated her nicknames. "I doubt they are. Even before my last summoning, the Old Magiks were being discarded. Ancient Gods and temples deserted." He let out a dismissive snort. "Ever since discovering magic, wizards have thought themselves above the evil of religion."

"I'm inclined to agree," she mumbled to herself. "I suppose you'll have to be invisible during our trip."

"But WHYYYYYYY," he whined. "It's BORING!"

"Cress, be quiet." she hissed. "If you keep raising your voice then—"

A banging on the door silenced the retort on her lips. "BE QUIET, CHILD!" Sister O'Leary shouted. "Unless you want to stay up reciting for the next hour, you'll be quiet and GO TO SLEEP!"

"Yes, Sister. I apologize." She supplied, the reply stale on her lips. She didn't really care if they made her recite Bible passages, but the words would give Cresswell a headache. Then he'd throw a fit and she'd have to go through another exorcism and hope that the barrage of Holy Water didn't land on Cress or her bond's point of origin. His explanations all suggested that it would be painful. Complacency saw faster resolution.

As O'Leary stalked away, Hermione glared at Cress. "The next time she catches you yelling, I might just brass her off on purpose." Cresswell muttered promises of dark horror as she stared at the ceiling. Plotting could wait.

Her hopes for her future would see her through the night.

* * *

Holly Potter walked through the darkness that suffocated her old primary school. She could remember her whale of a cousin chasing her around the playground with his gang. Her escape onto the roof had been the instant she discovered teleportation; or as Miss McGonagall put it, apparition. Three weeks later she was finally away from her cursed 'family'.

She never really thought about what happened to her cousin until now. Maybe he turned his life around and lost weight. _And stopped being such a jackass._

"Where are we now?" Mozu whispered as she raised her head to study their surroundings.

"England." Holly shook herself from the memories and walked briskly over the cool grass towards the street. "Where I used to live before meeting you."

Mozu flicked her tongue. "I trust we aren't here for a sentimental visit."

"Of course not," she rolled her eyes. "We're going to find Diagon Alley."

While on the continent, Holly had heard numerous stories about her home country. Few were good. Most were about their legislative biases, corrupt Minister, and disturbingly regressive policies.

The worst had to be the one she heard while in Spain. A family of semi-sirens was generous enough to give her room and board for some menial labor, and their take on Britain was extremely unsettling. Despite being recognized as sentient beings in the rest of the Western World, sirens (along with veela and harpies) were still recognized as Dark Creatures in Britain, less than typical subhuman classifications.

This in itself was not unusual. Every country's list of what constituted 'Dark' varied from its neighbors in some form or another. However, a ban on comparatively tame races was rather unsettling. The mother and two daughters were later briefly arrested by the Being's Division and held at the Ministry of Magic for 'invalid passports'; a truly ludicrous claim given that the mother of the household _was _a member of Spain's Being department.

However, one positive tidbit of knowledge that she had learned from that story was of the space-and-time defying speed-car known as the Knight Bus.

_I hope bangles will work the same as wands,_ Holly thought as she reached the edge of the street. She held out her arm.

A bang that sounded like an artillery cannon echoed from the end of the street as the purple deathtrap squealed to a stop beside her. The bus was three stories, with bright windows and bright headlamps. _How does it drive under bridges?_

A younger-looking man with a terrible case of acne stepped off the doors. "Welcome to The Knight Bus, emergency transport for any stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand 'and, step on board, an' we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike an' I will be your conductor for this evening." His speech completed, Stan crumpled up his notecard and tucked it into his jacket pocket. He blinked at the sight of Mozu, still curled around Holly's neck and shoulders. "That ting don't bite none, do it?"

"No," said Holly. _The Knight Bus must have recently had a turnover recently if this guy was the conductor_. "How much would it be to get to London?"

"Surrey to London, let's see… eleven sickles. You'll be wantin' The Leaky Cauldron, I expect."

"Yes, please." Said Holly as she climbed aboard The Knight Bus. "How much would eleven sickles be in krona?"

"Got an outta towner 'ere, do we?" said Stan.

"Yes," She replied as she followed Stan back towards the front of the bus. He patted the bed directly behind the driver.

"You can 'ave this one," Stan whispered. "Ern, we allowed to take krona?" An elderly wizard with the thickest glasses Holly had seen in recent years gave a non-committal shrug from his place behind the steering wheel.

"That's Ernie Prang. Best driver I've ridden with." Stan raised his hand to accept her coins. "This is what they're usink cross the channel?"

"If it turns out you can't use it then I'll flag you down tomorrow and swap with actual sickles." Holly offered. "I don't have anything else right now."

"Tha's alright," Stan nodded. "You look good for it." He settled down into the armchair next to Ernie's. "Take 'er away, Ern."

A second, if somewhat muffled, bang tore through the night. The bus shot forward like a bottle rocket, speeding into the streets. Mozu hissed as Holly fell backward onto her bedstead.

"Who's hissin' an' booin' back dere?" A shrunken head spun around from its perch on Ernie's overhead dash. "I haven't heard a snake swearin' like that ever since Mrs. Parkinson rode us. Hahahahaah!"

"Bite me, headcase." Mozu spit out.

The bus teetered to the right, driving into the oncoming lane. Before she could properly make peace with what would happen if Ernie ran into a muggle car, the bus swerved onto the sidewalk, narrowly missing a motorcyclist. As the lampposts and trash cans warped around the bus to get out of Ernie's path, her eye caught Stan looking at her funny.

"Ain't choo a little young to be ridin' by yourself?" said Stan.

"I suppose."

Stan gave her a closer look. "You know, you look the spittin' image of a girl me mum went to 'Ogwarts wiff." He turned to Ernie. "That popular girl who's grave everyone visits in October, Ern. Name some sorta flower?"

"Lily Potter," said Ernie as he took a sharp turn right to avoid a collision with a taxicab and turned down a side street.

"That's the one," Stan nodded as he turned back to focus on Holly. "Shame wha' happened to 'er family, innit? Course, it got rid of You-Know-Who, so she got a big heroic statue an' all that."

"Wish I'da gotten sometin' to remember me by," said the shrunken head through a thick Caribbean accent. "Course, you know what dey say bout wishing. You oughta quit while you're ahead! Hahahahahahaaah!"

The head's pun caused it to dissolve into a fit of manic laughter. Ernie ignored the jostling bauble as he swung another hard right to avoid hitting a road barricade.

Two stops in Wales and a stop in Cornwall ("What's de walls in Cornwall made of, Ern? Cob-blestones! Hoohahahahaaah! Plenty o' _maizes_ built with de stuff round here!") saw the bus stop pull up onto Charing Cross. Stan walked Holly to the exit.

"You're one o' the few patrons I've had that never looked queasy after a ride; you know that?" Stan told her as she stepped off the bus. "Refreshin' it was. Hopes to see you soon!" Stan tipped his hat and stepped back onto the bus as it shot off into the night again, vanishing once it turned the corner.

"We're never doing that again," Mozu grouched as they entered the Leaky Cauldron. "Never."


	3. Diagon

**Chapter Three: Diagon**

* * *

****Reviewer Responses****

**Johnmonty:** Now where would the fun in all that be? As I said, I don't want any of my characters to be all-powerful. What use would Holly have for a trace-less wand when she has bangles that can function in the same way? As far as power boosting, she is the Girl-Who-Lived and more powerful than the average witch; and as far as Knockturn Alley goes, she is still the girl-who-lived and not welcome. I agree with you that Ollivander using three cores is an absurd idea; anyone who has family in a family business knows there is a hell of a lot of experimentation with recipes and techniques in a year, let alone since the fall of Rome.

As for sex scenes, I don't plan to have them because I don't think I can write them that well, and I'd rather have none than poorly done ones. Although I might write one and like it, so who knows?

Natural legilimency is another tricky subject... Snape never gave a statistic rate in the book, but 'very few people are good at it' is what I gathered.

**Pascal Dragon**: I thought about making Parseltongue a separate font or text, and I didn't for two reasons. First, it just sounds like hissing to everyone else, and like regular speech to Holly. The movies made Parseltongue into this weird, strange-sounding, partial enunciation language, and Parseltongue isn't that. It's just hissing. Secondly, I felt like if I gave an extra change to Mozu's dialogue, I'd have to do it for Cress too; and since I 'occasionally' use italics for thoughts, I couldn't think of a way to do that feasibly. Holly already knows that Parseltongue is a rare ability and one associated with Dark wizards from her time in mainland Europe, so she isn't going to speak it around other people (excluding a dire circumstance), and anyone who hears them speak would just hear hissing (so if I'm writing from, say Hermione's Pov and Mozu and Holly talk, it would just sound like English to them and hissing to Hermione).

I don't plan on changing the Malfoys that much: Draco is going to be a little ass who grows into a smarter version of himself (barely); Narcissa is going to play a bigger role than lying to Voldemort, but she is still a bigot who sees muggles as beneath her and the magical world; Lucius is still a huge bigot who worked for Voldemort.

**Shop till you drop.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Holly awoke to a koala gnawing at her stomach. Now that she could afford to eat three meals a day, her body was taking _forever_ to adjust to her new diet. This resulted in bounces between 'bottomless pit' and 'tricked into being full', with meals skipped at random as she had done last night.

She untangled herself from her blankets and scraped the sand from her eyes. The murmur of foot traffic from the open window suggested it was later in the morning than one ought to sleep to, the sound a pleasant hum as she stretched. Mozu was still curled up on a pillow, the warming charm keeping the snake in a permanent state of drowsiness.

Her feet padded to the bathroom as she yawned. Say what one might about the Leaky Cauldron's pub, but their bathroom features were divine compared to her normal routine of sponge-baths and showers snuck from youth service clubs. She savored the hedonism of the water on her skin as she stood underneath the shower fixture, slowly coming to life in the way only hot water could bring about.

A good forty minutes later she threw her towel onto its rack and moved to her glossy trunk to dig out an outfit. While robes certainly were the outfit of choice in magical Britain, Holly found herself content with the muggle clothes she bought out of London. Her vault in Gringotts was brimming with capital, and she had no qualms paying the fees required to exchange some of it into pound sterling.

Fifteen minutes later (five spent getting her hair dry, ten spent coaxing Mozu awake) she was downstairs in the dining area of the pub. She had spent the past week here, and the regular customers were finally getting used to her appearance. The first night she had been veritably mobbed by numerous patrons before the barkeep managed to beat them off with a broomstick and set her up with a private room.

Said barkeep grinned cheerfully as she sat down at a side table near the rum barrels. "How goes it, Tom?"

"Business-wise, pretty good," chuckled Tom. "My customer count has doubled with everyone loitering 'round so they can catch a glimpse of you." He set down the ale mug he was cleaning. "Are you thinking of havin' the big meal or the little one?"

"Big please," Tom nodded as he started work on frying eggs and sausage. She smiled as a glass of water levitated itself to her table. What Tom was missing in dental health he made up for in quality service. The man had a penchant for watching out for her, and his actions were too earnest to put a stop to.

As she polished off her third plate of sausage, eggs, and jam toast, Holly turned her eyes from her stomach to the pub itself. Doris Crockford, one of the first regulars to introduce herself, was smoking in the corner; while something-Diggle was seated on the balcony, distinguishable by the purple top hat that she had yet to see him without.

As Mozu accepted the last pieces of sausage, Holly heard the door to muggle London creak open.

She looked over to see a bushy-haired girl in a muggle school uniform standing in the closed doorway. The girl's eyes searched the pub, snagging on the details before she moved to the counter to speak with Tom. He nodded and pointed her towards the door for Diagon.

Holly waited for the girl to slip out, rose, paid, and followed her into the alley.

* * *

Hermione was mystified by the sheer size of the magical shopping district. To think that all of this existed in regular London, somehow hidden from the mundane world. _How had they managed to do it?_

Shops of every color spilled over the pavement. Restaurants, clothing stores, bookstores, pet shops; if you could name it, it was there. People shuffled up and down at a clogged pace as she fell in step among the throng.

"Same old Diagon," Cress muttered from his invisible place above her. "It's barely changed in four hundred years. That's new, though," Hermione couldn't tell which building he was talking about or probably pointing to given his invisibility. She shrugged it off.

"We'll visit later," she tore her longing stare from the bookshop and headed for their first destination: Gringotts. The grandiose, white marble building had two entrance doors, each manned by a pair of what must have been the goblins: pink, short, sharp-faced creatures in ornate gold and scarlet armor. The second set of doors, the pair of silver, were inscribed with a poem that she figured she'd take her time reading:

_Enter stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed_

_For those who take but do not earn_

_Must pay dearly in their turn_

_If you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there_

The ominous rhyme echoed in her mind as she passed through the doors to the bank's lobby. Goblins worked throughout the foyer at high desks, some taking customers and some not. Others kept up bookkeeping and other clerical work, while two stands seemed to be reserved for arguing with patrons about interest fees and collateral. "Potential recovery of gold from a sunken ship that you don't know the location of can NOT be put up as collateral, werckknt!"

"Good morning," said Hermione after her turn was up. "I'm here for the Hogwarts fund for the underprivileged."

"Name?" inquired the teller.

"Hermione Jean Granger," the teller withdrew a book from his desk and inhaled. Hermione waited patiently for directions as Cresswell rapped his fingers against each other.

"Here you are," said the teller, tapping a long finger against the book. He pressed a button for what seemed to be an intercom system and muttered a string of odd words and vowels into it.

"Gobbledygook," Cress hissed into her ear as she bounced on her heels. A few minutes of waiting passed until another goblin walked up behind the counter. He handed the teller a small pouch.

"Fifty galleons, Miss Granger," said the teller as he passed the bag over to her. "Should provide enough for your supplies if you buy what is required only."

She accepted the pouch, pulling the strings taught and slipping it over her head. "Thank you, sir." The goblin nodded and she turned to walk back outside to the Alley.

Blinking in the sunlight, Hermione considered her options as she inspected one of the coins. The teller confirmed she could afford her robes, books, and other things, but what about a trunk, or extra books, or some spare money throughout the year?

"Process of elimination," she muttered. "We'll get our wand, then the books and robes, then… everything else."

"Excuse us." A disdainful voice sniffed. She looked up to see a woman with long blonde hair and fair skin directly in front of her. Next to her stood a dark-haired girl with sharp blue eyes on her right and a child with curious hazel eyes on her left.

"Sorry," she moved against the side of the entranceway. The woman ignored her apology and stalked into the bank, the girls trotting beside her without a backward glance. _Why not just walk around me?_

"Some people," she scoffed. "Where's Ollivander's, Cress?"

He directed her halfway back up the alley to a small shop that looked as if it was squeezed between the others as an afterthought. The darkness inside muffled any vision beyond basic shapes as she peered through the window. "Looks closed,"

"They're open," Cresswell growled. "They just like to do that."

"Well, that's no basis for good business," she said as she opened the door. The bell tingled.

Ollivander's shop was like an ancient library, silent and imposing. Hundreds of thin boxes were piled around the front desk and on the floor, providing no glimpses to any furniture except an empty spindly chair for waiting guests. Behind the counter stood rows of shelves, each filled to the top with more boxes.

"Mr. Ollivander?" She called into the depths of the store. Her voice echoed as it bounced off the shelves. "Are you open?"

"I am," an elderly, white-haired wizard walked from the labyrinth of shelves towards the front desk. The man's pale orbs seemed to absorb all the light in the room. "And just my name is fine, young lady. Here for a wand or a repair?"

"Wand, please."

Ollivander nodded. "Which is your wand hand, miss?" She raised her left and Ollivander snapped his fingers. A tape measure flew from his pocket and spun around her, measuring the distance between her fingers, her arm length, and around her bicep before it began doing the same thing in the air above her.

_Cress. _Her eyes widened as she turned to see if Ollivander noticed his tape measure acting peculiar. His attention focused was blissfully focused on the notes that had appeared on the parchment in his hands. "That will do," Ollivander commanded without looking up. The tape measure fell limp. She pulled it off of Cress's arm and dropped it on the carpet.

"Every wand is unique," said Ollivander as he began climbing one of his shelves to pull a box from its depths. "My family has passed down the traditions of wand-making since ancient Rome, you see. Mostly, we stick to three types of wand core—dragon heartstring, unicorn tail hair, and phoenix feather—but I," the old man paused as he pried the box open. "I am a tad more experimental than my family." He smiled as he handed her the box. "Thestral tail hair and juniper. Eight inches, pliable."

Hermione lifted the wand. When nothing happened, she turned her eyes back to Ollivander.

"I'm afraid not," Ollivander fretted as he took the wand back from her. "Let's try… this one," from the front of his stock he withdrew another box. "Larch and Pooka ear, six and three-quarters, resolute."

She had barely touched it before Ollivander shook his head. "No, not that." He walked around the counter to the pile of boxes by the door and pulled one loose, ignoring the collapse of his other boxes. "Cedar, perhaps, with dragon heartstring; seven and a half inches, firm…"

Hermione spent the next twenty minutes subjected to Ollivander racing about his store, searching desperately to find a match. They eventually narrowed it down to vinewood, but after fifteen different vinewood wands of various cores and shrinking lengths, she began to wonder how much it truly mattered.

"I've got it," Ollivander snapped his fingers, turning back to the recesses of his shop. "Made this one just under four years ago. It was the first time I tried out this type of core material." The sounds of searching and the crash of more collapsing piles reverberated from the shelves.

He emerged holding a box longer than the previous ones. "I believe we started at the wrong end of your wand-length," Ollivander explained as he wiped the dust from the carton's surface. Pulling it open, he passed the box to her.

Hermione picked up the wand and felt a warmth beneath her fingers. She tilted her head, examining her hand as Ollivander nodded. "Grim muscle tendon and vinewood, eleven inches. Firm." He smiled as she waved her wand in the air. "Yours is the first Grim wand I have ever sold," the old man confided as she laid it back into the box. "Most wandmakers, even those more broadminded like myself, refuse to use it for fear of death."

"Death?" She looked at Ollivander as he wrote up her receipt.

"Death," Ollivander confirmed. "Grim have a reputation as dark hounds; ravenous wolves from the pits of hell." Hermione fiddled with her money pouch. "However wrong superstitions may be, I find myself inclined to ask if you could report how your wand behaves with you during its use?" His lamp-like eyes peered at her as she handed over eight galleons.

"I… I could do that for you," she reluctantly agreed as she accepted her box from him. "Have a good day, Mr. Ollivander."

"And to you as well," he replied. The bell tinkled merrily as the door closed.

Cress snickered as they stood on the street. "He's like his great-great-grandfather before him." A purring rasp echoed from his throat. "Glad that he has shaken his family's penchant for simplicity."

She let out an exhausted sigh. "He was certainly interesting." Her eyes roved the alley and landed on Flourish and Blotts. "Books next."

The rest of her shopping went by much quicker than her time at Ollivander's had. Resisting the temptation to purchase an advanced spell-book, she moved from the bookshop to 'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions' to collect her school robes. Where there, Madam Malkin shrunk her shopping so it would fit inside her money pouch while adding an Undetectable Expansion Charm on it to ensure everything would fit.

The Apothecary was next, for her potions equipment. After ensuring the glass phials were securely wrapped in cloth, Hermione asked Mr. Muldpepper to shrink her items so that they would also fit inside her pouch. He was kind enough to do as she requested, and even added a weight-lifting charm to ensure her neck didn't dip under the strain.

Mentally sorting through her list, Hermione decided to skip the scales and the telescope in order to have enough for a trunk. Try as she might, she couldn't find a place for them in Diagon beyond Wiseacres, and the storefront proved their trunks were worth more than the galleons she had left.

Even the junk shop, Cranville Quincey's, had sold out of used trunks earlier that week. "Happens every year," the clerk told her with a frown. "Truly sorry."

She stood in the street, at a complete loss of where to purchase one. _Maybe the broomstick shop has an old packing crate they could sell me._

"Try down there," Cress muttered, gesturing to a battered sign that read 'Knockturn Alley'. It was dimmer than Diagon by far, and hardly anyone was coming in or out of it. _Must be an old district that fell hard._

She cautiously examined the storefronts as she walked down the street until she found what looked to be a junk store called 'Borgin and Burkes'. Not wanting to walk further into the eerie, withered alley, Hermione stepped inside.

The shop was littered with what she presumed to be antiques. Medieval weapons hung on the walls alongside masks and strings of silver ornaments. Cabinets held mirrors, bones, and bloodstained objects ranging from a pack of playing cards to fishhooks to a stained chess set.

As Hermione tilted her head at the display cases, a stooped man with horribly dirty teeth and brown hair stepped to the register. "How can I help you?" His slippery voice chittered.

"Do you sell second-hand trunks?"

The man studied her face and scowled. "Hogwarts?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," she watched as he looked her up and down.

"You aren't a mudblood, are you?" he ground out. "Thought magic was all fanciful and wonderful down every turn, hm?"

"You think I'm a mudblood?" She said, trying to mimic a tone of indignation. She had no idea what a 'mudblood' was, but this man seemed to dislike them immensely. _Perhaps it's the slur version of muggle?_

"Hmm," the man straightened _not by much_ as he eyed her a second time. "My mistake, miss. Halfblood, then?"

"Of course," she glowered at him, glancing up at Cress. The demon was busy examining a vase labeled 'Malek Taus feathers'.

He nodded his approval. "Honest mistake, miss. A trunk, you said?" the git turned and shuffled around, moving a glass dome of brown skulls to the floor and some books to a nearby shelf. "Been meaning to find a spot for that," he said, gesturing to the skull case. Grunting, he hefted the trunk up onto the counter.

Despite the beaten and scuffed outside, the trunk's inside was quite clean and sounded sturdy enough when she tapped on. "How much?"

"Six galleons," said the man. She thought that was a little too pricey and suspected him of up-charging her, but she decided to let the slight lie.

She shelled out the galleons and handed them over. Dragging the trunk behind her, she let the man's "Come back anytime!" hang in the air behind her.

"Those weren't even real peacock feathers," Cress complained. "He stiffed you."

"We'll live," Hermione replied as she briskly walked back to Diagon Alley. She let out a sigh of relief that she had made it out of that unwelcoming place. She turned to try and find someone to shrink the trunk for her and froze. The redheaded girl from the pub was leaning against the wall, eating an orange slice, her brown-and-white snake wound around her shoulders.

* * *

Holly waited for the girl to emerge back from Knockturn Alley. She knew first-hand that it wasn't very welcoming to any sort of muggle. It didn't matter to Knockturn's occupants if one was half or mud, and from the girl's school outfit Holly could tell she was one of the two. Why the girl's parents didn't come along with her she didn't know, but her guess was they had dumped her at some boarding school that ran late into the summer. _Either that or the girl was so borish she wore her school uniform year-round._

Holly had been following the bushy-haired girl all day. She would often talk to herself, but other than that she was an utterly average individual.

"Why are we doing this?" Mozu demanded as they waited. "She's a girl, she's boring, so what?"

"She caught my eye," Holly told her familiar as she checked the Alley again. The girl had walked into one of the shops and had yet to emerge.

She peeled another orange slice and held it next to Mozu's mouth. "Here, eat this and be happy."

Mozu declined as the door to the shop opened and the girl came out, lugging a trunk behind her and walking quickly. Holly flattened against the wall so she couldn't be seen.

The girl stepped into Diagon and exhaled deeply. Her composure regained, she turned and looked directly at her, freezing as if she had seen a ghost. "Hello," Holly smiled as she bit into the orange slice.

The two stood in silence, staring at each other as she chewed. "How's your day been?" Holly tried again as she pushed herself off the wall.

"Fine, thank you." _This girl is stiffer than a plank of wood._ "How about yourself?"

_Quid pro quo, a wonderful conversation starter_. "Alright," she returned. "Would you happen to be a muggle-born witch?"

The girl tensed up again. "I don't know," she said shortly. "My parents died when I was a baby." Another wave of silence passed over them. "If that's all," the girl said, lifting her trunk.

"You want to get lunch?" Holly asked. The girl hesitated. "My treat."

"Sure," the girl said, sounding everything but.

"Great," Holly said. "Tom makes excellent sandwiches. I'm Holly Potter," she patted the girl's shoulder before leading the way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Hermione." the girl said as they walked together. "Hermione Granger."

* * *

"Daphne, we're going to be late!" Narcissa's voice rang through the manner as Daphne brushed her hair into something halfway presentable.

"Daphne!"

"Coming!" she shouted back as she pulled on a pair of shoes and headed for Malfoy Manor's floo parlor.

The lady of the house stood beside her sister, exasperation on her face. "Honestly, Daph," Astoria giggled. "You're like Jenny when she would make new sellers wait before dolling out their stashes."

"Thank you, that's quite enough." Narcissa mandated as she picked a handful of ash and tossed it into the fire. "Twilfitt and Tattings," she called as she stepped into the green flames. Astoria copied her actions first, Daphne second.

She emerged from the fireplace into a backroom of some sort of tailor shop. Cloth spools hung in stacks and rested in barrels as Narcissa nodded. "Gloria allows me to use her fireplace for emergency clothing fixes," the lone Malfoy said as the soot vanished from their clothes. "She permitted me to use it today so we might keep a low profile."

They emerged from the back room and swept through the store. Daphne blinked as the stepped into the sunlit Diagon Alley, her eyes watering from the bright colors splashed across every storefront.

"This way," Narcissa murmured as she walked briskly down the street towards the marble tower at the end. She and Astoria hurried to keep pace behind her.

Astoria took ahold of her hand. "It feels weird to be out here. People are looking at us," she whispered.

Daphne snorted. "We've been watched plenty of times when we ran deliveries," she glanced around and could see only a few people watching them. Most eyes were watching Narcissa.

"That was different," Astoria pouted. "That was just people looking at us as kids without parents. These stares aren't the same." She slipped closer to her and Daphne smiled to herself. Astoria's childish behavior was often restricted to crude jokes, and her sense of wonder had been stolen long before they signed up at the Tiger. It was nice to see that she was still a little kid.

"Excuse me," Narcissa's voice rang cold as she stood in front of a bushy-haired girl who looked up, startled from her thoughts. Daphne rolled her eyes. Narcissa might be a closet bigot, but she was still a right piece of work whenever she felt like it.

The brunette stepped out of their way and the three walked through the large doors into Gringotts.

Daphne grew bored of watching the goblins work as they waited in line for the tellers. Examining the building's layout, she noted that goblins in gold and scarlet armor watched the wizards from above. Two square windowpanes stretched from the second floor's balconies to the ceiling of the third, the sunlight peeking through them obscured by heavy shades.

"We're up," Narcissa muttered, pulling Daphne from her mental wanderings. The lady of House Malfoy led them to the open teller. "We're here to confirm ownership of the Greengrass Vault."

The goblin leered down at Daphne. "No key, I expect?" At the shake of her head, he talked into an intercom-like device in a rush of speech that sounded like rattling wood. As a goblin approached the other side of the desk, the teller gestured to him. "Gornuk will verify your claim to the Greengrass Vault," said the teller, an evil smile on his face.

The three witches were led into an office wedged off the main lobby. "Wait here," their guide said in a nasal voice as he walked away to locate the goblin's genealogist.

"I should've known they'd drag this out," Narcissa fumed. "Wasting a wizard's time is one of the few things goblins cannot resist."

"Calm down, Narcissa." Daphne lounged back in one of the scarlet armchairs. "It's not like we're in a rush."

"Thank Merlin for that."

"Are they going to test me, too?" said Astoria as she sat on the arm of Daphne's chair.

Narcissa pursed her lips. "Most likely, if we are to put you on the list of owners."

The door opened and Gornuk walked back in, followed by an older goblin with far more wrinkles than the other. Once the goblin had seated himself behind the desk, he spoke.

"You are here to claim ownership over the vaults of the Greengrass family and the trust fund for their missing children, Lady Malfoy?"

"No," Daphne replied before Narcissa could answer. "We, the missing children of the Greengrass family are."

The older goblin rose his brow at her bluntness and withdrew a folder from his briefcase. He laid a slip of filthy, cracked parchment on the table and reached behind him to pick up a small device that looked like a cross between a spinning jenny and a water wheel. "I assume you understand how this works?"

"Yes," said Daphne as she stretched out her hand. The older goblin took it and picked her pointing finger on the device's spindle.

Drops of crimson blood fell onto the water wheel, turning it as the elder goblin released her hand. The five drops met on the page, spreading into a thin horizontal line as Narcissa sealed Daphne's wound.

As the blood absorbed into the paper, a thin scrawl of red ink displayed the words. 'Daphne Elena Greengrass'.

The older goblin nodded in careful acquiescence, cleaning the device with a hushed string of Gobbledygook. "Now you," she whispered to her sister.

The same procedure ensued, with the name 'Astoria Rosalyn Greengrass'.

"Rosalyn?" Astoria asked.

"Your great-grandmother's name," said Narcissa. "You will need to learn your family tree." She muttered to herself. Daphne rolled her eyes. _Great. More work._

"Let us finish the business and hand first," The older goblin interrupted. He turned to his assistant. "Go find our copy of the Greengrass's key and unseal the vault." His cranky face turned back towards the witches. "Gornuk will take you there. I must file these papers somewhere safe," he sneered as he marched from the office.

"What's he so brassed off about?" Astoria asked as they stepped back into the lobby.

"The goblins enjoy keeping as much gold in Gringotts as they can," said Narcissa. "Now that the vault is active, they can no longer keep it buried beneath us."

"But they didn't own it before," Daphne frowned.

"Half-right," Narcissa explained. "A vault sealed by the Ministry works both ways. The money is recognized as unable to be spent by the Ministry, halting the interest, but is also forced to be left alone by the goblins. Unsealing the vault allows the goblins to resume taking an interest, but with some of that money being removed and spent—"

"They lose some and gain a little, rather than having it all locked up inside their hall." She said, nodding in understanding.

Gornuk returned with the keys to the Greengrass vaults and led them to another doorway on the side of the bank opposite from where the offices were. The doors opened to reveal a cavernous passageway that sloped down towards a small area cliff. Gleaming tracks suspended by nothing hurtled from the chasm's edge down into the abyss.

The goblin whistled and a cart for four rolled onto the track ties. The three witches climbed in after him, Daphne in the front seat beside Gornuk. At his whistle, the cart shot forward into the gloom. Daphne tried to keep track of the turns: left, right, right, right, middle left fork, left, another right, but lost the pattern and decided to just enjoy the ride like her sister was. Narcissa would lecture Astoria later about her screams of glee, but a glance at the witch revealed she was presently occupied with the hand pressed against her mouth.

The cart turned sharply down again, soaring past an underground lake and a row of stalactites before the cart petered to a stop alongside another cliff face.

As the four exited the cart, Astoria was laughing like a madwoman. "That was like a rollercoaster!" she cheered.

Narcissa, after taking a minute to compose herself, shuddered. "A what?"

"A rollercoaster," Astoria laughed. "They're rails with carts, except with more seats, and people—er, muggles go on them for fun."

Narcissa stared at Astoria, then Daphne as if unsure they were playing a trick on her. "Muggles do that for fun!?" Her head shook in disbelief as Gornuk led them to the vault door.

The ancient locks creaked as they moved for the first time in years. A mist of ancient air spilled out from within as the door swung open. Daphne's mouth dropped.

Mountains of gold coins were piled to the top of the vault on one side, covering an entire wall from view. Columns of winking silver and glittering bronze lay intermingled among the pile. On the other side of the vault sat a pile of artifacts and furniture. There was a case labeled "rare ingredients", an entire bookshelf of ancient tomes, and enough jewelry to rival the Queen of England.

Narcissa gave a minute smile at her expression. "I looked much the same when I first saw inside the Black Vault," she said fondly.

The two sisters stepped inside carefully. Narcissa's attempt to do so was blocked by Gornuk. "You are not authorized to enter this vault, _rebbndckt_."

"Just give us a minute, Narcissa," Daphne murmured as she spun around. The vault had to be at least a hundred meters wide, to say nothing for how far _back_ it extended. Severus had said that the Greengrasses were old money, but she had never imagined _this_.

"Funds are not withdrawable at this time!" Gornuk shouted. She glanced aside and inhaled, hardly registering the sound of coins clinking together. "Be grateful Gringotts is allowing you to look inside at all!"

"Sorry," Astoria called back as her cheeks turned rosy. "We'll just come back then, okay Daph… Daph?"

Daphne barely heard her sister. Her attention was on a portrait leaning upright, a portrait of them and their parents. The moving paint changed from the formal photo to the sequence that must have happened beforehand. Astoria grabbed her mother's hair from her place in her arms, their father laughing as Daphne gently pried her mother's hair free and presented her finger for Astoria to clutch instead. The family became serious again as their still faces began to loop over.

_Mama... Father... _She felt tears welling up in her eyes as the silent laughter began again. Astoria hugged her from behind as they broke free and trickled down her face.

* * *

Narcissa tapped her fingers on her crossed arms impatiently. "May I step inside just to check that they are not injured?"

"No, rebbndckt," Gornuk hissed at her. "Family only."

Her retort died on her lips as the two sisters stepped into sight again, both too demure compared to when they entered. "What took you so long?"

"There is a portrait of us in there," Astoria quietly whispered, her usual jubilee missing. "Us and our parents."

Sympathy for the eldest Greengrass welled within Narcissa. She stepped forward to offer her support. Daphne stepped back, wiping her face with her sleeve. "I'm alright," she muttered. "Let's just go to the trust vault."

Gornuk sealed the vault as the three witches piled into the tram. Daphne sat in the front seat again, her face and emotions unreadable as they hurtled along the track. Narcissa's twinges of affection grew stronger the more she looked at the back of Daphne's head, but she knew better than to reach out to her again. The girl likely only ever let her weakness show to her sister. Narcissa wasn't the person the eldest Greengrass needed to soothe her. _If she needs one at all._

* * *

The rest of Daphne's trip through Diagon Alley was much less eventful. The money collected from the trust vault provided her and her sister each with more money than they had seen in their lifetimes, and Diagon supplied plenty of places to spend it.

Gloria Twilfitt made her school robes from silk; and made her double the amount listed on her letter "Always better to have extras in case of stains, dear," along with a few outfits for her to wear outside of class. Astoria tried not to giggle during her fitting for everyday robes and failed miserably.

Flourish and Blotts provided all of Daphne's textbooks, along with a few extra books Narcissa had a hand in picking out: _Advanced Spellcasting and Battle Magic_, _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_, and _Origin of the Sorcerers_, the last of which Astoria laughed at while Narcissa stood on in confusion.

Inside the Apothecary (which Astoria disliked the smell of—who would have thought) Daphne purchased crystal phials, her cauldron, dragonhide gloves, scales, and a potions kit containing most of the ingredients first years would use in class. Her telescope was bought inside of Sterling's Astronomy Salon, along with a book on cosmology and a floating model of Saturn for Astoria that showed the planet's rotation in real-time.

In Eyelops' Owl Emporium, two owls were purchased: a tawny owl for Astoria and a European eagle owl for Daphne. Narcissa called for one of the Malfoy's numerous house-elves, who appeared and took the assembled shopping back to the manor, along with the two owl cages and their pet food.

The final place on their list was Ollivander's. The moon-eyed old man had given a rundown of Narcissa's wand, her husband's, and her son's before Daphne managed to get her name in. Upon the announcement that she was Daphne Greengrass, Ollivander's eyes had somehow grown larger and he rattled off her parents' wands before disappearing into the back of his shop. Her budding happiness had quickly soured after that.

Twenty-three tests later and she had her wand. Aspen and selkie whisker, twelve and one-quarter inches, "Unyielding," as Ollivander had put it. The rush of power she had felt when she waved it was slightly intoxicating.

Unfortunately, they had not been able to spend any more time in Diagon Alley thanks to a mob of reporters led by a magenta-robed woman with ugly glasses. After one of the portly cameramen had shouted "There she is!" he and the rest of the press swarmed like maggots on an animal carcass.

She was subjected to a barrage of questions ranging from 'How did the Malfoy family keep you hidden all these years?' and 'Where have you been all these years?' to idiotic questions like 'Are you in an arranged marriage with the Malfoy heir?' and 'Are you attending Hogwarts this year?'

As Astoria huddled closer to her sister, scared by the shoving and shouting, Daphne readied her switchblade to give someone a personal pocket right in their gut. Before she could, Narcissa fired off an explosive bang from her wand that silenced the crowd. "Miss Greengrass will answer all of the public's concerns in an interview with the Daily Prophet next week," her powerful voice commanded. "Now, leave my charges alone so that we may finish our shopping in peace!"

Sufficiently cowed, the reporters slunk back to make a pathway for the witches. Daphne stalked alongside Narcissa, Astoria's hand firmly in her grip. They made it back into Twilfitt's without any other harassment by the paparazzi and flooed to the Malfoy Manor.

They had an interview to put together.

* * *

Hermione was perplexed by the redheaded girl sitting across the table from her. Holly Potter, a veritable stranger, had offered to buy her lunch.

The girl was nice enough. She made jokes and laughed and smiled nicely. Her stories about living in Italy and Sweden and Spain were interesting, and her adventures of escaping policemen, social services, and dangerous magical creatures were exciting.

Still, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that there was another foot waiting to drop. Cress wasn't helping any, becoming more and more fidgety the longer he had to wait to decloak himself.

"You okay?" Holly asked. Her eyes were bright with genuine concern.

"Yeah, yeah," she said. And Holly's disbelieving brow she sighed. "I'm not used to strangers being nice." She played with her fingers in her lap before looking up at Holly. "Why did you want to talk to me, exactly?"

Holly looked around and opened her mouth only for her eyes to catch something over her shoulder. Her face went pale. "Oh, shit."

Hermione looked over her shoulder and saw a woman in magenta robes, curled-to-perfection hair, and gaudy bejeweled spectacles walking into the pub, a horde of reporters and cameramen behind her. "Who's that?"

"The worst reporter in the wizarding world," Holly muttered. She slipped from her chair and started inching towards the stairs as the reporters trooped through the lobby.

"You better be right about this, Skeeter." One of the more overweight cameramen puffed, his face shining with sweat.

"When have I ever been wrong?" Snapped the witch. "I'm telling you, the lost children of the Greengrasses were spotted in Diagon Alley with Narcissa Malfoy not fifteen minutes ago!" The troupe charged past Tom's dumbfounded expression towards the entrance as Holly slid behind a post. Only once they were gone and the noises of the bar resumed did she peek out from behind it.

"Thank god," Holly muttered as she slid back into her chair. "She's had it in for me ever since she heard I was here staying here."

"No offense, Holly, but why would she be after you?"

Holly hesitated, worrying her lip with her teeth. "Can we talk about it in private? I don't want her to come barging back in here and find me."

Hermione nodded and rose from her seat as Holly threw a pile of silver coins onto the table and headed upstairs. Hermione looked at Tom and pointed at her trunk. The barkeep nodded and pointed his wand at it. It vanished.

She stared at where her trunk had been and looked back to Tom, who nudged his head towards the staircase. _Not what I was asking for, but that works._

"Can we go?" Cress growled at her on the stairway. "I'm ready to go now."

"Wait a little longer," she muttered as she stepped onto the landing.

The inside of Holly's room was more spacious than her former room at St. Agnes. Aside from a fancy-looking trunk that matched the designs of those she had seen at Wiseacres, the room had precious little in it besides the furniture. Hermione's own trunk appeared from nowhere and gently floated to the floor.

Holly sat crossed-legged on her bed, bouncing from the jump she had taken to get onto it. Her snake hissed in irritation and slithered off of her to curl up on a pillow. "Your trunk sounded empty," the redhead noted as Hermione closed the door behind her.

She nodded. "I've got all my supplies except my wand in here." Holding up her Gringotts pouch, she tipped it over. Her miniature batch of school supplies tumbled out, along with her six remaining galleons.

"What me to re-grow them?"

"You could do that?" At Holly's nod, she gave her consent.

The redhead's bangles began to turn around her arms and shone with an ice-blue hue. "Engorgio." A small light launched from Holly's left arm and hit her effects. They grew to their normal size in an instant.

Hermione stared at the results, fascination brimming within her. "I didn't think self-study was a part of the magical world."

"It's not encouraged," Holly admitted. "I happened to have a particularly good teacher."

"Is that why the press are hounding you?"

"Not exactly," she sighed. "The truth is, I'm famous,"

"For what?"

"For this," Holly reached up and pulled her fiery hair out of the way. On her forehead sat the thin shape of a lightning bolt.

"A scar?"

Holly shook her head. "For what caused it."

"Ten years ago, a dark wizard named Voldemort was at the height of his power here in Britain. He had an army of wizards called the Death Eaters. They killed anyone who opposed his rule without mercy. Then, on Halloween, he attacked my family. My parents had stood up to Voldemort. And he found them." Holly's voice was flat. "And he killed them. The Killing Curse. They were dead before they hit the ground. Then he tried to kill me with it."

"For some reason, it didn't work. The spell rebounded, killed him instead. I'm the only person who has ever survived it," Holly looked at her with lifeless green eyes. "So everyone chalks Voldemort's death up to me."

The two sat in silence as she contemplated this news. The wizarding world, at least, Britain's magical world, had been in a civil war less than a decade ago. "What was the war over?" Hermione asked once she managed to find her voice.

Holly looked at her as if she had said giraffes were secretly aliens. "Blood purity. Some kind of rubbish like that."

The pieces were falling into place. "That's why he asked if I was a mudblood,"

"Who said that?" Holly asked, alarmed. "That's like, the wizarding N-word, Hermione."

She stared at the redhead and broke into a short laugh. "Wizarding N-word," she giggled. "People always find something to hate, huh?" The brunette shook her head. "Is that why you were watching for me when I came out of Knockturn?"

"Well, no," Holly rubbed the back of her neck. "I was watching you because you seemed interesting."

"Interesting how?"

"You paused." Holly shrugged. "I'm not new to the magical world in general, but I am new to how things work in magical Britain. You seemed like the sort of person it would be fun to explore it with."

Her mind ran with the possibilities. She was new to this world, and no guidance whatsoever. Holly could provide that guidance, even if her experience wasn't the most encyclopedic. She nodded to Holly's arms. "Can you show me how they work?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Holly grinned. She clapped her hands together in an almost prayer-like formation, her eyes closed tight as she focused. Blue light shone from the redhead girl's wrists. Her bangles glowed with an eldritch gleam as they levitated and hovered in place around her arms, humming gently.

Hermione tilted her head in amazement as Holly shot her arm forward with a quietly muttered "Nives," A white formation appeared in her bangles as it burst forward in a shower of snowflakes.

She stared at Holly as the magic slowed and her bangles dropped to gather loosely on her arms. "See? Easy," The redhead grinned.

"That's incredible!" She remarked, walking to Holly, her head cocked far to the right. "Your bangles—you said you got them in Romania?" Leaning down to examine them more closely, she noticed the inner rings were carved with several runes and sigils. "What keeps them these loose while those stay firm on your arm?"

"Slow down" Holly laughed at her enthusiasm, pulling her arm from the brunette's reach. Hermione stepped away.

"Sorry," she murmured, her eyes to the floor. "They're interesting."

"I'll teach you about them if you like."

"Really?" Her mind churned with the possibilities. Learning from an experienced witch so that she had the hang of magic before Hogwarts. It would be an enormous boost to her standing as a presumptive half-blood.

"Sure," said Holly. "You can rent a room here and we can study together. I'll teach you what I know, and—" As her face fell she stopped talking. "What it is?"

"I can't live here," she said. "I have to go back to my care home." The reminder of St. Agnes sucked all the joy from the room like a burst balloon.

"Oh," said Holly, uncertainty creeping into her voice. "Um… alright. Do you want me to shrink your stuff back down so you can go home?"

Hermione shook her head. "They're very strict on 'fantasy' things." She looked at Holly. "Do you think you could hold onto my stuff until we're at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, sure," Holly shrugged. "If you ever need to get away from there, take the Knight Bus. It's a bus for stranded wizards. Just stick your wand hand out and it should appear. Maybe hold onto a galleon while you do it; if you want to leave your wand here."

Hermione felt a small smile form on her face. "Thanks," she turned to leave, scooping up her black pouch and her six galleons as she left. Despite the ache, she placed her wand beside her other school things. Sister Irene might just snap it in two. "See you at Hogwarts."

Holly nodded. "See you at Hogwarts."

* * *

**My version of wizard economy is going off a galleon being 4 bucks, a sickle being 2 bucks, and a knut being .5 bucks. The seventeen sickles make a galleon and twenty-nine knuts to a sickle still counts in terms of swapping coins.**

**Malek Taus is a figure from Yazidi religion, a peacock-feathered angel.**

**The first spell I've created is Nives, which just means 'snow' in Latin.**


	4. Consequences

**Chapter Four: Consequences**

* * *

****Reviewer Responses****

**Johnmonty: **I can't talk about a lot of what you theorized about, sorry, but I can talk about a bit of it. The biggest morons are not going to be friends, per se, but they are acquaintances. Ron not so much as Draco; but having personally had a high school graduating class of 34 (magnet school), I can say that everyone knows each other at least a bit before graduation. Daphne and Draco are already tentative friends due to their association for the two months at Malfoy Manor, and Daphne has to tolerate him to keep in his parents' good grace so they don't throw her out.

Holly does have a wand that she'll use in class, I just haven't had her use it yet. Only certain teachers will force her to use her wand, as I see the use of alternate casting tools as a 'same solution, different formula' type of issue, like how you end at the right answer in calculus but you solved it the 'wrong' way.

Emancipation is not something I plan to do right now. Holly already goes where she wants, so forcing her to stay somewhere she's run from once is not a way to stay on her good side.

**Black and blue and red all over.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Astoria pulled at her brand-new, deep green dress as they waited in the sitting room of Malfoy Manor. "These robes feel weird," she grouched.

"Don't mess with them," instructed Daphne. "and sit still. Narcissa and Severus will be back with the reporters any second." Although she privately agreed with her sister that years of wearing rough, semi-clean clothing could not be washed away with the comfort that silk provided, they would survive. Narcissa's lessons on pureblood behavior were exhausting to try and live up to, but they were a bane she could bear with ease.

The door to the sitting room opened. Daphne straightened as Narcissa led the way, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. Severus looked out of his element as he quietly moved to his place on the sofa against the magnificent windows. Narcissa took center stage with Daphne, each on their own musimon-wool chair.

Narcissa had spent a day and a half planning the interview, analyzing as many possible backstories as she could. Daphne suggested they use Severus, one of 'Dumbledore's stooges' (as Lucius blanketed the Hogwarts faculty) to add credibility. It gave the image that Dumbledore, the most revered wizard in Britain, had signed off on the plan for the Greengrasses, rather than it landing in his lap like a hot potato.

"Care for a drink?" Daphne focused her attention on the reporters as Narcissa played the hostess. The cameraman was a heavy-set fellow whose ruby crown graphic camera hung from a thick strap around his neck. The chaise sofa shrank underneath him as he settled. The interviewer was more average, although his enormous mustache reminded her of Mark Twain.

"No, thank you," the cameraman shut his mouth as his boss declined the offer. "Randolph Dover, Miss Greengrass." The man pulled a quill and notepad from inside of his olive-green robes. "First, the question we have all been wondering: where have you been for the last five years?"

"My sister and I lived in the Muggle world." She ignored Dover's flicker of horror and continued to recite the lie that she and Narcissa had meticulously crafted. "During the fire that consumed our family's manor, I was wearing this security portkey." She lifted the small silver charm necklace that she now knew portrayed the Greengrass family crest. "Unfortunately, although our escape from the fire was complete, our landing did not go as smoothly. Instead of arriving at a presumed safe house, we landed in the Muggle world." Dover furiously jotted down notes. "It is only by a stroke of luck that we survived at all."

"Indeed," Dover nodded as he finished his scribbles. "And how was it you learned of your magical heritage?"

"Professor Snape," Daphne gestured to the man. "He came to search for us after he noticed the name on the Hogwarts letter"

"And I found them," Snape nodded as he took the reigns for his part of the story. "After I showed Headmaster Dumbledore, he sent me to find her at once." His lips twitched into a thin smile. "Their care home found it acceptable to hand them over to her family's old solicitor."

"Once I had the children at Hogwarts, the staff agreed that they should be placed in the care of someone from the sacred twenty-eight. Despite the precious little time before term begins, the Headmaster believed it best the children learn their traditions and heritage."

Dover nodded as he continued to write. The cameraman, stuck with nothing to do, made funny faces at her sister. Astoria did a valiant job containing her laughter, but Daphne shot her a glare anyway. They needed to sell the idea that they could be purebloods now. Laughter could come later.

"And the Malfoys volunteered?" Dover's tone was purposefully clouded, but Daphne could detect the note of disbelief in his voice.

"I was asked," Narcissa replied, a dark smile on her lips. "My maiden house, the House of Black, is one of the eldest families in our society. Two members of the Twenty-Eight, who would be better to impart the knowledge and traditions to the long-lost heirs of Greengrass?"

_Her ego's the size of the Effiel tower. _"And you've worked with her ever since she was removed from the Muggle world?" Dover warningly glared at his cameraman.

"Lady Malfoy has been educating my sister and myself on our future responsibilities as heirs to House Greengrass. She is instructing us on the history, etiquette, and knowledge that all heirs must learn. During our two weeks here, she has only given us one day of respite." Daphne smiled good-naturedly at Dover. "It's brutal."

"Still, the Malfoys were generous enough to open their home to us until the time when we can assume control of our family's assets."

Dover nodded as he flipped through his notes. "How about you, Miss Astoria?" he inquired, turning himself to face the sofa. "How does it feel to learn about magic and our world?"

"It's incredible. I learned that what I thought was only in books was real." Astoria's eyes shined with mirth. "To learn that I'm rich in this world was the best part of the news."

Dover laughed as Severus shook his head in exasperation. After the reporter had gotten control over himself and written her response, he turned back to Daphne. "And you have accepted your position at Hogwarts. What do you think will be the most enjoyable part of your time there?"

She pretended to give her answer a bit of thought. "I will attend Hogwarts; yes. As for what will be the most fun… learning spells." She smiled at him. "I love to learn everything I can about this world."

"She has already gone through an eighth of the books in our library," Narcissa interjected, her tone one of fondness.

"A Ravenclaw for sure," Dover smiled as he dotted the quill on the pad. "Wonderful. Wonderful." He tucked his quill and notepad back into his robe pocket. "We'll put this to print for circulation tomorrow," he stretched out his hand to shake Narcissa's. "Thank you for your time, Lady Malfoy, Professor." He smiled down at Daphne. "You'll enjoy your time at Hogwarts immensely, Miss Greengrass."

"I intend to," her mind rankled when she was talked down to like a child, but she ignored it. Narcissa had informed her that the wizarding world staunchly believed in the phrase 'children should be seen and not heard', with few children taken seriously by adults. Draco would gripe about it whenever the two were alone together.

"Let's do a shot in front of their mantle, Lenny," suggested Dover.

Daphne kept a smile plastered on her face throughout the subsequent thirty minutes of agony as Dover kept rearranging where they stood and Lenny kept moving his camera to take shots from different heights. On and on it went until the idiots agreed they were finished and left for the floo, Narcissa leading them from her house.

"God," Daphne rubbed her jaw. Her cheeks were killing her. "I was about to chuck their camera into the peacock pond if they didn't leave."

"You performed admirably," Severus complemented as she slouched, massaging her cheeks with her fingers. "The press are hound dogs, through and through. At least Narcissa managed to find a decent reporter instead of one inside in the Ministry's pocket."

"They only aren't in with the Ministry because they are in with the Malfoys." Daphne snorted. She stretched her limbs out and sighed. "Do you think you could give me the same remedial lessons you are giving Draco?" she asked the potions professor.

Severus glared at her. "You realize Draco has the lessons because he _can't_ remember what he is supposed to know, correct?"

"I know; but if you agreed then maybe I can shave some time from Narcissa's lessons and take yours instead."

Before Severus could answer, the witch in question opened the doors and shut them behind her with a muffled thud. "Ugh. Reporters. Eban?"

The house-elf appeared with a small pop. "Yes, my lady?"

"Bring us some of the Merdreich," she requested. The elf disappeared and reappeared with a tray, two glasses, and a bottle of the wine in question. "Can I bring the misses anythings?" Eban asked the sisters as Narcissa poured herself a glass.

"Water please," said Astoria. Eban nodded and returned with two glasses for them and a crystal water pitcher.

"That went exceptionally well," Narcissa said between sips. "I don't recall an interview that pleasant since before the investigation into Lucius's wartime involvement."

"And with that, I shall take my leave," Severus rose. "I must finish with my assessment of the stockroom at Hogwarts and submit a final checklist of ingredients before the school year begins." At Narcissa's nod, he turned and showed himself out.

_A Ravenclaw for sure. _"Do you honestly believe I'll be in Ravenclaw?"

Narcissa set down her glass and exhaled. "I believe your potential is best suited for that house," she said carefully. "It doesn't matter though, as long as you are not placed in Gryffindor. A person of your bloodline has no place in the lion's den."

"How are we sorted, again?" Astoria asked, from behind the book she had pulled from one of the shelves. "You still haven't told us."

"And I will continue to hold my silence," Narcissa smirked. "It is a Hogwarts tradition to keep the secret."

Daphne stared at the floor. Narcissa's rundown of the Hogwarts houses—Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin—had been rather… biased. The way she talked about them suggested people of the same type went to each house: Gryffindor took in the reckless and morally righteous; Hufflepuff, the house for the hard workers with weak wills; Ravenclaw, a nest for bookworms and self-study know-it-alls; and Slytherin, which she described as the house for the 'cunning and ambitious' but seemed more like the den for purebloods.

She would not mind being in Ravenclaw. She simply had concerns about how the sorting process measured 'intelligence'? Was it based on factual knowledge or tactical skill? Trivial information like the scientific names for animals or harsh truths many refused to accept? Or was it based on someone's will to learn more than they knew?

"Daphne?" Astoria's voice called her away from her thoughts. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she gave her sister a smile. "I'm going to go have a bit of a lie-in." She looked at Narcissa. "Is that alright?"

The witch nodded. "I'll have Edan check on you at supper." Daphne nodded and walked through the doors, tracing the way back to her room from memory.

She needed some time alone to think.

* * *

Holly took a lighter breakfast her second Tuesday at the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione's stuff was still in her room (Holly had taken the liberty of packing it for her) and Holly had grown bored. Diagon Alley, while interesting, was not the most exciting magical alley in the world, and aside from sorting through Cranville Quincey's for any junk of interest, there was little to do. Her textbooks, while somewhat engrossing, were full of spells that she already knew. Her frustration that they didn't work when cast with her maple and phoenix feather wand was driving her crazy.

Ollivander had claimed her wand was for 'the challengers'. Challengers of _what_ the old man hadn't said. Until now, the only challenge it provided was the challenge of not snapping it in two.

_Maybe Flourish and Blotts have some new books._ Beyond textbooks (and, ironically enough, fairy tales), few books existed in the magical world, at least in Britain's. Apart from a collection by 'renown traveler Gilderoy Lockhart' and books about 'The Adventures of Holly Potter' (something she was definitely going to court over, someday) there wasn't much to be read.

As she headed upstairs to collect some galleons, Holly had a thought. There was one place she hadn't been that deserved a visit.

She stepped into muggle London with ease. After making her way to a deserted side street, she held out her hand.

The familiar 'bang' echoed as the Bus appeared. _It has to be covered in Notice-me-not charms_ she decided as it hopped the curb. There was no way a muggle would miss the noise otherwise.

Stan stepped off the bus. "Ern! It's the outta towner!" As she followed him back on board, he quietly muttered: "Don't suppose we can exchange that krona like you asked last time?" He smiled as she did so, and he handed back to the two coins. "Thanks. The big-wigs tried to get onto me 'bout that, but Ern pushed against 'em."

The bedsteads had all been replaced with several leather chairs. Holly took a seat in the one behind Stan and Ernie.

"Where are you goin' today, Miss Potter?" Stan asked her as he swiveled around in his seat. He chuckled at the surprised look on her face. "Read 'bout choo in the Daily Prophet. 'Holly Potter returns to the magical world! Where has she been?'" Stan smiled at her. "Ern supposed you wanted to keep a low profile when you rode us last."

"You know who's got a low profile in dis world?" Ernie's shrunken head rattled as it tried to push itself around. "The goblins, don't dey? Hahahaaaaa! But don't tell dem I said dat." The head sniggered. "Dey all be havin' a short fuse."

As the head broke into laughter again, Stan rolled his eyes. "Anyway, where you headed?"

"Godric's Hollow."

Ernie briefly lost focus, forcing a brick building to balloon out of the way before he steered the wheel back onto the pavement.

The smile slid off of Stan's face. "Ah," he said. "You're wantin' to visit 'em, yeah?" At Holly's nod, he sighed. "Well here," he pulled out a dark-colored wand and conjured a small bundle of daisies. "Complements of the Knight Bus."

"Thank you," Holly accepted the flowers as Stan turned back around in his seat. Even the shrunken head didn't attempt to make a joke as the Bus swerved through traffic, nearly running over an elderly man as he crossed the street with his dog.

A few jumps around the British Isles and they reached her stop in Somerset. "No fee for visitink gravestones," said Stan as he walked her off. "Take your time 'ere—we'll show up when you're ready," he said. He waved at her as the Bus zoomed off to its next passenger.

She looked around the village. The clear blue sky draped beautifully between the cottages on the quaint road. It seemed like a happy place.

As Holly wandered along the narrow street, she found herself wondering if any of the Muggles here knew her parents. Would her parents have shown themselves to their mundane neighbors, or had they quietly chosen a cottage and slipped it into secrecy, never to be seen again?

The road curved to meet with the village square. People moved in between the buildings of the town hall, the newsroom, the pub. She gazed at a war memorial enchanted to change to a statue of her parents for a few minutes, ignoring the afternoon bustle around her.

She spotted a church with stain-glass windows, its white walls shining in the sunlight.

Holly walked to it and thumped the knocker. A man with a dark brown mustache, glasses, and a tan tweed suit answered. "How may I help you, child?"

"Hello," said Holly. "Um… my parents lived here when I was younger, and I've only recently been able to track them down. If it's not too much trouble, could I check the cemetery for them?"

The priest nodded. "Of course. The gate is always open to the family of the departed." He gave her a smile. "Let me know if you need anything else."

Holly weaved her way among the headstones. Some were old, covered in lichen and the stain of forgotten love. Others were older, yet clean and cared for, free of moss or dirt. A couple must have been wizarding families; their names were too odd to be those of muggles.

Then she saw it. Her chest hurt from the old wound. The white marble made the names hard to see in the light, but she could make them out:

James Potter, born 27 of March 1960; Lily Potter, born 30 of January 1960.

'Died 31 October 1981' was scribed under both names, and underneath the death-days, a quote.

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._

Hot tears pooled in her eye sockets. Death had not been destroyed the night that destroyed her family. Death was not an enemy who could be beaten into submission; he was not a spiteful consciousness who chose who survived another year or whose time was up. He was a constant force, something that happened to everyone, eventually, an equalizer and a fact to accept rather than fear.

She placed the daisies on the grass above her parents' tomb and cried freely, the grief and guilt from refusing to face her parents' resting place ebbing out of her as she did. They were gone, she was here, and the world was silent around her as she sobbed.

* * *

Hermione sighed as she sat inside the chapel office. Outside the thin horizontal windows, the sun had set; pale pink and orange streaks coating the sky like cake icing. Only once the night was out in force would she move.

As punishment for running off unauthorized, she had been subjected to a three-hour lecture on repentance inside the chapel. That had apparently not been enough, however, as O'Leary demanded Hermione explain her excursion and 'ask for forgiveness'.

Cress, displeased at his forced invisibility, snapped as his migraine worsened. He destroyed one of the pews before Sister O'Leary flew into a rage and kicked Hermione in the ribs. She fell to the ground, winded, as O'Leary screamed for the others to 'help me cure her'.

She was then dragged into the back office where she went through another cleansing ceremony. Sisters Irene, O'Leary, Branahan, and Rainer spent the next two hours shouting Bible passages and dousing her in holy water. Her knees were raw and scorched from the salt she knelt on as she stared ahead in silence, begging through clenched teeth for Cress to bear it. They were almost free.

Then some of the water had touched her link spot and her brain had fried.

When she came to, she was still inside the chapel's office. Two days of meals were sent through the door under careful watch by the sisters, with a bucket and a bog roll provided for her bodily needs. When she asked why they were keeping her in the office, Sister Rainer informed her that O'Leary was trying to find someone to come and provide a 'proper exorcism' for her.

They wouldn't have the chance. She would be gone by morning.

Two days to explore her cell provided an excellent collection of information. By some sheer luck, the door's hinges were on her side of the frame. Better still, the caps were all rusty and could be easily pried off.

A large crucifix hung on the wall behind the desk. The nail that supported it was loose and could be coerced into coming free of its socket. By popping the hinges on the door, she would be able to escape. _Just like I did last year._

Four hours after curfew, Hermione took the cross from the wall for the second time. Moving to the door, she bent down and set the nail in place. "Ready?" Cress nodded and swung his hand back.

The first pin loosened. Hermione moved the nail to the second, then the third.

With the pins freed, she took hold of the doorknob and slowly pulled the hinge side toward her. Outside of its socket, the door's lock failed. She carefully laid the door against the frame and stepped into the chapel.

"You little beast." A haggard voice whispered.

Hermione's heart sank as she pivoted to see Sister Irene keeping a silent vigil from the pews opposite the office door. _Fingers crossed that she didn't see you, Cress._

"Go back in there this instant, you heathen girl." Irene croaked. "This is a holy place. I saw the shadow that hovers behind you."

_She saw Cress._ Hermione stepped forward. The moonlight gleamed against the chapel floor as it poured in through the stained-glass.

"I didn't fully believe O'Leary's predilection," Irene's eyes gleamed with malice. "Twice is only a coincidence. But that shape—you're puppeteered by a creature of sin!"

Hermione walked toward the old crone as Irene hobbled toward her. _Chicken, chicken._ "If you don't go back into the office this inst-ack, gluheck!" Her tirade was caught short as Cress stretched out a hand and grabbed Irene by the neck.

Hermione tilted her head. "You can uncloak yourself, Cress." Irene's eyes grew wide as he, his maw wide with glee.

"Hello," Cress rasped into the sister's face, as he rose her off the ground. Her legs kicked feebly as she clawed for air. "My name is Cresswell."

"He's been helping me," Hermione explained. She felt odd. As if she was watching herself from above, or from the pews as the old woman's eyes pleaded for air. "Relax a bit Cress, we don't want her to depart so soon."

The demon complied. Irene took in great, gasping breaths as oxygen flooded her lungs. "You see, Irene, you were wrong," Hermione said as she walked over to the altar. "God isn't always there. He doesn't strike down those who refuse him." She examined all the objects she could use and chose the candle.

As she wrenched it loose, she felt a rush of warmth travel down her arm. The wax rippled in her fingers, transforming from a pale white to gleaming silver.

Pleased her magic had worked without her meaning it to, Hermione turned around to display the pretty knife she had made. "He didn't help me, and he won't help you." Irene clawed vainly at Cresswell's hand. _Why isn't she screaming? _Maybe Cresswell had some power that kept her silent. "The only person that can help us is ourselves."

"I have no idea if God and his angels are real. But they never did anything for me." She walked back over to Irene's squirming body. "They never helped me, and all the other children stuck here. They never stopped you when you starved us, beat us, enslaved us with your honeyed words of 'love' that we weren't allowed to refuse."

"You— glheck, ack," Irene hacked out a feeble cough as Cresswell tightened his hold.

"But it doesn't matter now," Hermione never thought her voice could be that cold. She tilted her head as the minutes ticked by and watched in sick fascination as Irene's eyes turned red. _P__opped blood vessels, _her mind cooed. Before Irene could lose consciousness, Hermione's arm flashed. She wedged the knife deep into the shaking torso and pulled it back, crimson on the blade. She stabbed again and again and again as blood pooled beneath her shoes, digging for a reason to stop as Irene gurgled, red dripping from her chin. Cresswell rumbled in approval as he crushed her throat with his hand.

He dropped the body to the ground. It echoed with a deep thud as Hermione stared into the soulless eyes of Irene's corpse.

Cresswell reached a hand into the deceased's chest and pulled out an orb of light. "Can I eat her?" He growled.

Hermione tilted her head further left. "Go ahead." Her body shivered in trepidation as Cress lifted the orb to his wide triangular mouth. One second it was in his claws. The next it was in his mouth. The next it was a lump slipping down his throat.

As she bent down and pulled the ring of keys from Irene's pocket, Hermione realized how much blood was on her. "Cress?" she asked. He purred. "Can you clean the blood off me?"

"Certainly." He held his hand out. The red stains flew from her clothes and skin to gather in his upturned palm. "What should I do with it?"

"Add it to the pool on the floor," Hermione said as she walked away. She checked that her soles weren't making prints. "We're getting my stuff and leaving."

Carefully, meticulously, she snuck upstairs. After her door unlocked, Hermione opened her cabinet and transferred everything into her backpack. Her pajamas, her uniforms, about twenty pounds she kept in a sock, and her Hogwarts papers.

She locked the door behind her and crept back downstairs. It took longer to slip the keyring back that it had taken to get it out. _Rigor-mortis, maybe._

Hermione gathered anything that looked valuable from the sanctuary and office. The wine chalice, the candle holders, the collection plate, the spare collection plate. Her clothes had to be unpacked to muffle any clanging, her heart fretting someone would come to take over Irene's watch as she repacked.

Crickets chirped as she inched her way through the front door of the complex. She ran down the drive and scaled the front gate.

Once on the pavement, she circled the building, her eyes straining to identify the chapel office. Her bag waited as she went back over the fence, striding through the grass, her footsteps leaving clear indents on the manicured lawn. Once she was at the wall, her ears strained for any sound of discovery. None came.

She exhaled and steeled herself for the tricky part.

Her shoes fell into place on the grass as she retraced her way to the fence. Cress waited by the wall until their bond could not extend any further.

He thrust his hand through the thin windowpane, shattering the glass. Hermione quickened her backward steps, Cress right behind her. She hopped the fence, scooped up her bag, and ran. Her feet pounded the pavement and she didn't stop until she was a block and a half away.

"I hope this works," she muttered as she dug out a winking gold coin. She held it over the road.

A deafening 'bang' echoed over the buildings as a purple triple-decker bus appeared before it slid to a halt.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for— choo think you're doing?!"

"I'll listen to your spiel later, let's go. The Leaky Cauldron." Hermione snapped as she pushed past him. The conductor muttered as she sat down on one of the beds, leaving her for the front of the bus. A minute later they shot off into the night with another bang.

* * *

Thirty minutes later the bus pulled up in Charing Cross. "Sorry for being so rude," Hermione said quietly to the conductor as she stepped off. "I was in a hurry."

"It's alright; 'appens to everyone," the conductor nodded. "Bedfordshire to London, thirteen sickles. 'Ere's your change." He handed her four silver coins. "Hopes your night gets better!" With that, the Bus sped away and vanished.

Hermione stepped into the Leaky Cauldron. Only two of the pub's patrons looked up at the bell, the rest too engrossed in their alcohol to care.

She walked upstairs and counted her way to Holly's room. She knocked on the door and heard noises as the girl inside rose from her sleep.

The redhead opened the door with a groggy "Who's it?"

Hermione fixated her eyes on her friend's bedhead. "Hi, Holly,"

Holly squinted at her. "Hermione? What are you doing here?"

"I ran away. Do you… would it be alright if I roomed with you? At least for the night?"

Holly yawned again. "Sure. Come on in."

Hermione took her backpack into the bathroom to change as Holly flopped back into the bed. "Cress? Are you okay with staying invisible all night?" She asked as she rummaged past the stolen goods for her nightgown.

Cress shrugged. "The extra soul could keep me invisible without any side effects for a while, I suppose."

_Souls boost Cress' power? _She opened the bathroom door. _I'll ask tomorrow. _Holly lay beneath the sheets, already asleep. Her snake was coiled on a pillow on the nightstand.

Hermione took her side, a smile on her face as she joined the redhead in dreamland.

* * *

**Boredguy's Beastiary**

**The musimon is an animal from British heraldric designs. It's basically a cross between a goat and a sheep.**


	5. New Arrivals

**Chapter Five: New Arrivals**

* * *

****Reviewer Response: ****

**PascalDragon: **I'm glad the scene in Godric's Hollow hit your feels. It was supposed to, after all. Stan gets short-sold a lot in many fanfictions, but he's one of my favorite C-list characters, above Rufus Scrimgeour and just below Florean Fortescue.

**Sorting Hat's song tempo stolen from Billy Joel.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Hermione spent her summer days in Diagon Alley with Holly, exploring the cavalcade of shops and studying their curriculum before the year started. Holly's favorite was Florean Fortescue's, and although the odd flavors were interesting to try out, she preferred perusing the upper level of Flourish and Blotts, a cozy foyer where she could 'test out' books ranging from magical creatures to the magic of numbers. The occasional day would go to muggle London to loitering around shopping districts or hit up the cinemas. Holly often paid for their tickets so they could enjoy the popcorn, though they did sneak a double feature once so that they could see _The Silence of the Lambs. _Each night, they would return to the Leaky Cauldron, eat dinner in Holly's room, and hit the bed after swapping stories, although Holly told more often that not.

Hermione's guilt over how much Holly was spending on her room trumped Cress's joy over his ability to remain uncloaked for longer periods of time on the third day of their stay. When she voiced her concerns, her friend laughed it off and explained that her trust fund had eleven years of stock in it to spend, plus the Potter family vault on top of that. She could afford privacy.

Another surprise was how thoroughly engrossing Hermione found her studies. The sheer breadth the wizarding world covered seemed impossible given its total absence from the muggle side, but she supposed there must be a magical group that managed accidents and infractions. She did not attempt any spells during her first week at the Leaky Cauldron, preferring to watch Holly practice charms and transfigurations. Her streak of piety was broken as soon as Tom confirmed the Ministry of Magic could not properly detect who cast what spells at a magical location. After that, she tackled at least one spell a day, easily outstripping Holly's wand-bound practice.

She was surprised Holly wasn't as keen about Hogwarts as she was, although the redhead's explanation made sense. Having spent most of her life in the magical world, her friend was not thrilled with the idea of sitting in a classroom for the next ten months. Holly explained it as wanting to actually practice magic, and from what she had heard on the continent, Hogwarts placed a lot of emphasis on practicality.

Her friend's displeasure was only exacerbated by her wand's begrudging compliance with her. Hermione suspected that if she hadn't described the same hand sensation from her purchase, Holly would have gone back to Ollivander's and traded hers in for another.

On the first of September, Hermione and Holly awoke and fell through their normal routines. Despite Hermione's advice to pack the night prior, Holly waited until the last possible minute, which led to Hermione helping the redhead pack her trunk the morning of departure. Both of them were stuck with buttered toast for breakfast as Tom sent them through the Cauldron's floo to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters ten minutes before the train was scheduled to leave.

The platform was not easy to worm through. Families gave goodbye speeches to their children and there seemed to be more people than the platform could handle, everyone squashed together as the whistle blew the five-minute warning.

Hermione picked a train compartment in the middle of the stretch for them as other students ran the length of the train, searching for friends to make of re-connect with. They had just situated their trunks in the compartment overhead (Holly levitated them up with her bangles) when the train lurched. They were off.

Hermione stared out the window as she cooled off from the exertion, London passing before her eyes. Soon they were free of the concrete jungle, steadily moving past green paddocks. She turned her head at the sound of the compartment door.

A redheaded boy with a face full of freckles stood in the doorway, dirt on his nose and his trunk in his hand. "Mind if I sit with you?" He asked, his eyes focused on Holly. "Most everywhere else is full."

Holly glanced at her. "It's up to you," she offered.

"Sure, alright," Holly said. She activated her bangles and raised the boy's trunk to join theirs. "I'm Holly, and this is Hermione."

"Holly? Holly Potter?" The boy gasped. "No way."

"Yeah," said Holly, shifting so her back was to the window. She folded her feet into her chair as the boy sat in the seat next to hers. "I don't really want to talk about it though,"

"Oh, sure," the boy nodded eagerly. "I'm Ron, Ron Weasley. My little sister's going to be so jealous. She's a big fan of you," Hermione squinted at Ron as Holly's mouth contorted. "She's read all of your adventure books."

"Those aren't mine," replied Holly. "Whoever wrote them is going to be in a mess of trouble once I'm of age. Unauthorized use of my character and all."

"Oh," said Ron, his shoulders sagging for the briefest of intervals. "Well, that makes sense. I'd probably do the same if someone wrote a bunch of books about me." Her squint became a glare as she saw Ron's eyes climb to the top of Holly's. "Do you actually have the scar though?"

"She doesn't like to talk about it," she cut in. Their time roaming Diagon often ended because of stares and whispers from the masses. A crowd would always gather if someone uttered the fateful phrase "Look, it's the Girl-Who-Lived!"

Rarely did they say "Look, it's Holly Potter!"

And _nobody_ ever said: "Look, it's _Holly _Potter."

"Just drop it, will you?" She glared at the boy, who seemed stupified she was talking to him at all.

"Sorry," the boy muttered, not sounding sorry at all. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Hermione Granger," she replied. him less and less every second. "Don't you pay attention when someone introduces others?"

The boy's ears turned red. "No need to bite my head off about it. It's not like you've done anything special."

Holly stared at him, her head pulled back and her forehead raised. "Dude, rude," she said.

"Well she started it," he defended, gesturing to her with wide eyes. "I was only curious, is all."

"Alright, goodbye," Holly said. She unfolded herself on the seat and pulled Ron's trunk from the overhead. "You came in our compartment, you insulted my friend, and you're being annoying." She dropped the trunk on the floor and opened the compartment door with her bangles. "You can sit somewhere else."

Ron flapped his mouth open and closed like a fish. "Everywhere else is full!"

"Most everywhere else is full, you said." Hermione chimed in. "You'll just have to squeeze in with someone else."

Ron gaped between the two girls and lifted his trunk, storming out. Holly slammed the door behind him. "Jesus, he was a pain, wasn't he?"

"I hope he isn't in our house," Hermione shook her head. _How could one boy have so little self-awareness?_

The two played cards for the next hour as the express chugged past numerous fields of cattle and sheep. At one point, they spotted a family of centaurs hunting and managed to catch a wave in as the train passed by.

At a quarter to one, the door slid open to reveal a dimpled, middle-aged witch with grey streaks in her hair. "Anything from the cart, ladies?"

Holly purchased them two beef sandwiches, crisps, and a pair of water bottles, along with an assortment of wizarding sweets for herself.

"I still don't see why you buy so many of those," Hermione as she unwrapped her sandwich.

"I still don't understand how you can hate sweets," Holly replied as she opened a Chocolate Frog packet. "Yes!"

"Who did you collect this time?" Her friend's obsession with the cards that came with each frog was exhausting. Already she had Beowulf, Daedalus, Rasputin, Michael Scot, The Unknown Philosopher, Merlin, Morgana, Circe, Paracelsus, The Elder Mother, Agrippa, Jack Frost, Don Quixote, Marie Laveau, and Charlotta Roos. Hermione was intrigued by the moving pictures the first time Holly displayed her collection, but the second and the third were simply not as interesting.

"Baba Yaga!" Holly held up the card to showcase the stout, wild-haired woman as the Russian witch stuck her pinky in her ear. "I've been after her since she was announced in the '89 set!"

She rolled her eyes at her friends cheer as their door slid open. A pair of redheaded boys with identical features stepped inside. "How do you do?" Said the one on the left.

"We wanted to apologize for our brother," said the one on the right.

"We know he can be a git sometimes,"

"And he'd say sorry in person,"

"But he's still sulking." The left one finished. "I'm George, by the way."

"You numbskull, I'm George on Sundays."

"Ah. My mistake, George; I'm Fred then."

"Nice to meet you both," Hermione said as Hermione snickered. "Tell your brother we accept his apology, but remind him to be more polite."

The brothers nodded. "Let us know if you ever want to prank someone," said Fred.

"Or blow up a toilet seat," said George.

"But with your instructions, we shall take our leave." The brothers slipped back out into the corridor as Holly wiped tears from her eyes. "They're hilarious." She snickered. "I'm George on Sundays,"

_Yes, that was a joke they made._ Hermione shook her head. "I wouldn't be surprised if we're interrupted by another ten people at this point."

Hermione's prediction was proven half-right. A round-faced boy who looked as if he had been crying entered after a tunnel and asked if they had seen a toad; and a girl with strawberry-blonde hair came in not long after, asking the same question. Both visitors were told 'no' and offered some of the sweets. Holly's glare could've cut stone.

The train had spent ten minutes passing through thick woods and dark green hills when the door slid open a sixth time. A pale, smarmy boy with slicked-back blond hair entered, flanked by a boy larger in the waist and one larger in height, both of whom had pudgy, lumped up faces.

"Is it true The-Girl-Who-Lived is in this compartment?" The blond boy demanded.

Hermione exchanged a glance with Holly. "That would be me," said Holly reluctantly.

The blond kid nodded. "My name's Draco Malfoy." He stretched out a hand and Holly shook it, her bangles clanging on her arm. "What are those rings?"

"Romani bangles," Holly said, glad Draco was focused on something besides her scar. "I got them in Romania."

Draco was taken aback. "You've actually travelled the world?"

"Not the world," said Holly as Mozu shook herself awake. "Just some areas in Europe."

Draco nodded and turned to Hermione. "Who are you, then?"

"Hermione Granger," at her words the boy's incredulity morphed into a sneer.

"You're a mudblood, aren't you?"

"Not that I know of. I was left at an orphanage as a baby. I might be a mudblood or a halfblood, I don't know which."

Draco relaxed his face a bit. "Prove it then. Do some magic."

She tilted her head as she pulled out her wand. "Certainly. Wingardium Leviosa." At her words, the assorted collection of sweets, along with the empty boxes, exploding snap cards, and chocolate frog cards lifted into the air. They spun around in a miniature tornado before she released the spell and dropped everything in a clatter onto the floor and seats.

"That was pretty good," Draco said, approval on his face. His two lackeys grunted. "You must be a halfblood, then. Mudbloods aren't capable of that sort of power, not until they've been trained like the animals they are." Hermione kept her face blank at his words. "Are either of you trying for Slytherin?"

Holly shrugged. "I don't really care which House I'm sorted into. I know there's supposed to be a fierce rivalry between them, but I don't think I'll care enough to participate."

"Makes sense. I'd prefer Slytherin myself, but I couldn't care so long I don't land in Gryffindor. Slytherin was the House my father was in." His eyes rose over their heads. Hermione turned to see the sun setting, the dark beating against the window. "Well, see you at the sorting ceremony. Remember to keep the better families in mind when making friends." He swaggered off, a smirk on his face, his two gorillas lumbering after him.

"Did you have to throw my cards all over the floor with your little stunt?" Holly as she scrounged for them on the floor.

"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I was only trying to keep my head above the water in case I'm sorted into Slytherin."

"You're going to be in Ravenclaw," Holly told her for the twentieth time. "Someone who can learn spells as fast as you wouldn't go anywhere else."

"We will arrive in ten minutes," the trolley cart lady's voice rippled down the train, sounding like it was both far away and near at the same time. "Please change into your uniforms and leave your luggage on board. It will be moved to your dorms separately. Thank you."

Hermione saw Holly's face wrangle with distaste as she glanced at her luggage. The redhead's stories about living the homeless life came with a set of rules, one of the main ones being 'never leave anything you'd miss alone'. Her bags had been stolen twice before the lesson stuck. While her problem was not as bad _nor as manageable_ Hermione understood the feeling. Too many times she would find her dresser ransacked, at least before she was moved to her solitary confinement. _It'll be fine._

* * *

Daphne had spent her summer chained under Narcissa's rigid crash course in 'how to be a pureblood' 101. Her future position as Head of the House of Greengrass was more than a set-in-stone title to be worn; she had to learn her family's businesses (at one time, paragons for wizarding British-Chinese trade relations) and plot a method to regain control of her company. Investor recovery was difficult. So many had transferred their galleons to other families after her parents' demise, but a few souls were convinced her return promised a secure future with many happy returns.

Narcissa's course focused on her other expectations. Public image, proper etiquette, courting options, all were laid out and molded into her being. The study of her family's genealogy, her textbooks, and lessons with Professor Snape weighed heavily on her plate, but she would manage. It was a small price to pay for the world she was granted access to.

Snape's lessons were her favorite part of the workload since he was provided days off when needed. The first time he canceled the lesson, she had protested furiously. He had threatened to knock her out through force and ordered her to drink a concoction that put her out for a solid fourteen hours.

When she came back to the world of the living, she found a note from Narcissa about 'pushing herself too hard'. Her next lesson with the matriarch had circled entirely around magical exhaustion, and her curriculum classes were scaled back significantly, which she hated and enjoyed at the same time. But Severus kept her at the same threshold he had before his recommendations, pushing harder than he had before. His only new requirement was that she employ self-study if she had to miss an appointment. To have someone actively encouraging her to reach her limits, without ignoring their danger but acknowledging the freedom that came from finding them was freeing. Rook had done the first, Nikki had done the second,

_And Narcissa is still finding a balance between the two. _She stepped down from the train and made her way back to her benefactors. Lucius was quietly instructing Draco on something, but her focus was on her sister. While she had the same pureblood and genealogy lessons Daphne did, her sister had more opportunities to enjoy herself. Books with moving illustrations, fancy dresses, feeding exotic animals, a clear view of the night sky, catching fireflies. Her sister had a world of entertainment at her fingertips.

Astoria launched herself into her arms. "I'm going to miss you,"

Her heart stung. This would be the first time they would be without each other. "I'll miss you too," she said as she pulled away. "You better be nice to the Malfoys while I'm gone, okay?"

Astoria nodded, a brave tear slipping down her cheek "I'll write to you every week," she murmured, trying to keep her tears inside her eyes.

"I'll write back," Daphne bent and kissed her sister's forehead. She straightened to the posture she was coached into as Narcissa stepped to her. "Keep my sister out of trouble."

Narcissa inclined her head as the train's whistle blew. A cloud of steam enveloped the platform, driving families from the edge as the final students boarded.

She stepped on after Draco and made her way to her chosen compartment as the train lurched. She had no desire to share with Draco; he would undoubtedly spend the ride drawing attention to himself. Her plans couldn't be ruined by his miscalculated words.

Fifteen minutes into the ride, her door was opened by a girl with auburn hair. _Yes, you may come in._

The girl smiled politely as she sat in the chair diagonally opposite Daphne's. "I'm Tracey Davis. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Daphne Greengrass."

"Yours as well, Miss Davis." She kept her face neutral as the plane of the conversation shifted. Tracey's mask did not crack.

She hitched one of her kneecaps up and rested her chin on it. "How may I help you, Miss Davis?"

"There you are, Tracey!" A voice at an octave that was _too loud _covered the scraping noise of the compartment door. A pug-faced girl with brown hair stepped inside and sat next to the Davis heiress. "I was searching all over the train for you."

"Didn't take you very long," Daphne muttered. _If you're going to stage a hostile takeover, at least do it __**well.**_

"Pansy, this is Daphne Greengrass," Davis said, her tone that of a child showing off a new toy. "Daphne, this is Pansy Parkinson, heiress to the Parkinson seat among the Sacred Twenty-eight."

That caught her interest. Someone from the twenty-eight that wasn't named Malfoy would be helpful if things ever fell through with them.

"You're the long-lost Greengrass heiress, right?" Her lips pouted. "I'm so sorry for what happened to you. Living with the filthy muggles, can you imagine, Tracey?"

She didn't react. Severus had warned her about the dispositions some members of magical society held towards muggles.

"It'd be like living with animals," Tracey agreed. "But now that you are back where you belong, we can show you the best place for you to be."

"And where is that?"

Tracey smiled, her chin jutting forward. "Why, right beside me of course! My family has heard the rumors that you are thinking of reopening your family's trade ventures."

"That's correct," she brushed at her robe. "You are willing to invest in us so soon? I never would have expected that, but if you are willing..."

Tracey faltered as Pany twisted her lips. "I was thinking more along the lines of our businesses merging."

"A partnership, then." She laughed internally at her intentional misunderstandings.

"Something like that," Tracey conceded. Her eyes were no longer sparkling with the cheer of an easy solution. "Watching your business claw its disarray and crumble further would be bad for business. It wouldn't do for our mutual acquaintances to think that all British businesses are bad investments."

She stared at the patient masks across from her. "You are saying that with your help, I could ensure the success of my family's business?" A minute trembled managed to leak into her voice.

"And since you would become allies of the Davis family, you could become allies with mine as well," Pansy interjected. "It wouldn't be good for the Greengrass's restoration if they were associated with the taint of suspicion from everyone around them."

"No, it wouldn't." She stared at the patient masks across from her. _Too bad I know there are no free things in this world. _"There is a part I don't understand, though." She moved her eyes from Tracey's to Pansy's and back again. "My family's trade business is already on the rebound. We don't have the fleet we once did, but many of our old partners have already pledged they would much rather trade with me than... current options." Tracey's lip curled. "I don't think they would be happy if I abandoned them to be absorbed by one such current option."

"And as for a tainted reputation," she beamed at Pansy. "Your argument would be a lot more convincing if your family wasn't already in talks to join the Malfoys."

"I think I will have to pass on your gracious offer."

"It might not come around a second time," Tracey said quietly. "If I were you, I wouldn't be so rash."

"Let it go, Tracey," Pansy huffed. "It seems her time with the mudbloods has made her too stupid to think as a proper witch should." She shook her head. "What would your parents think of such a lifestyle?" Daphne's fury trembled at the seams. "Good thing they aren't here to see it."

_Don't punch her in the face, don't punch her in the face. _"Next time you insult my family, I don't think I'll be able to stop myself from hexing you. Not that it wouldn't improve your looks." She glared at them. "Now, get out of my compartment."

Pansy's nostrils flared. It did not alleviate her unfortunate dog-related appearance, in fact, it enhanced it. "Of course, Greengrass," she replied coolly. "Just know you have sealed your names' fate as a forgotten power today." She turned tail, Tracey fuming behind her. The compartment door rattled shut.

_Goddmanit. _She fumed as she cast a locking spell on it. She could already imagine Narcissa's reaction to the situation. _"You should have played it closer, you should have held your tongue. Collect as much information on why someone thinks what they do and then turn them away."_

_So I ought to grovel beneath an inbred bitch and her lap dog? No. _No. She was a Greengrass. She wouldn't cower beneath anyone's feet or take a place of subservience. Not for Parkinson, not for one of the Twenty-Eight, not for _anyone._

She cast the most powerful silencing charm she could muster on the compartment doors and she screamed.

* * *

Holly frowned at the horde of students pouring onto the much-too small platform. Everyone was shouting and shoving as more and more people came off the train cars. _Typical wizarding inefficiency. _Someone's elbow caught her in the ribs.

"Oi! Stop pushing me!" An older boy shouted, about six heads away from her. "I'm not moving until I've got a glimpse of Potter!"

"Potter?" "_Holly _Potter?" "She's starting this year?" "Where's she at?" "Which House do you think she'll be in?" She swallowed as her name made its rounds in the crowd. Without meaning to, her hand snagged around Hermione's as she stooped down to avoid the attention.

A large hand clapped her on the back. She looked up to see an enormous man with a shaggy beard and a mane of wild hair grinning at her. He pushed her behind him, ripping her hand from Hermione's.

"Tha's enough o' that, yeh lot! Even if Holly Potter is at 'Ogwarts now, tha's no excuse to be actin' like she's an erumpent. Now, move off for them carriages, tha's it. Firs' years, this way!" His bellowed.

The man turned to Holly and gave her a hearty grin. "Nice to meet yeh, Holly. Knew yer parents, I did." He bobbed his head. "We'll talk abou' that some other time, eh? Firs' years, after me!" He boomed again. The older students walked to the trees, guided by lampposts as the crowd thinned to the shortest among them.

"Mind yer step!" The man shouted as he opened the lantern. Fireflies flew out and gathered around the students as they followed along a dirt path littered with stones and tree roots. She heard the faint sound of water lapping at on a bank. "We'll be seein' Hogwarts jus' after this bend!" The man called as they rounded a turn of thick trees.

Several students gasped as they came around the bend. On the other side of a black lake rose a mountainous castle, its parapets blocking out the light of the moon. Windows sparkled with warm, orange light as the water gently lapped the bank. _I've seen better._

"Righ', everyone'll have to share boats! No more'n four to one!" The man bellowed as he pointed to a fleet of dinghies. The fireflies lifted from their place surrounding the students to hover around the dock.

She and Hermione took one of the furthest boats. They were joined by the crying boy from the train and the strawberry-blonde helping him. "Did you find your toad?" He started at her question and nodded.

"Everyone aboard?" The man asked from his boat. "Yes? Righ' then—FORWARD!" He pointed a pink umbrella toward the castle.

The boats glided forwards over the black water. Once they were a good bit across the lake, something surfaced. Two shadowy curls lifted from the water, twirling in the moonlight.

"Calm down, it's only the giant squid!" The man yelled as a girl screamed.

The tentacles rose and smacked the lake, splashing water onto some of the front boats. Holly made out Ron Weasley's voice and elbowed Hermione. She smirked.

The boats drew nearer and nearer to a cliff face, the castle growing as they closed in on its perch above the water. "Heads down!" Their guide bellowed. Holly complied, stringy strands of ivy batting her face as they went into a tunnel. The water's surface reflected off the walls and ceiling as the boats ran aground onto a shoal of pebbles.

"Careful now, careful!" The man shouted as the boats carved through the shoals as if they were butter. "Wait 'till we're outta the tide befer yeh get out."

At the man's signal, they clambered out the boats and followed him up a passageway carved in the rock. The fireflies continued to light their way until they reached the surface. Holly closed in her eyes as a cool breeze passed by.

When she opened her eyes the fireflies were fleeing into the night along the wind. Hermione was waiting for her as the rest of their group marched ahead.

They caught up and joined the rest in front of a set of massive oak doors. The man knocked on them three times, the sound echoing of the fortress's walls.

McGonagall answered the door. She had swapped her cardigan and khakis for an emerald-green set of robes. Her face didn't change at Holly's wave.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall." The man nodded.

"Thank you, Hagrid. Children, follow me." She called out in a light brogue. She turned and led them into the entrance hall. Torches spouting rich red flames adorned the walls alongside a marble staircase that stretched on before it split in two right turns. Inlaid in the wall between the split were four enlarged hourglasses, each with different precious stones within them: sunset-yellow citrines, blood-red rubies, deep blue sapphires, and rich green emeralds.

McGonagall led them into a cramped room to the left of where the other students were gathered, judging by the noise. Another elbow caught Holly in the ribs and Mozu hissed.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin after your sorting. I'm sure many of you know our Houses," she waited as a snicker arose from Draco and his friends. "but for those of you who do not, there are four: Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are at Hogwarts, your House will be akin to your family. Collectively, you will work throughout the year to gain House Points. The hourglasses we saw on the staircase are the counters."

She eyed the amassed students sharply. "Your triumphs, good deeds, and impressive schoolwork will earn your House points. Rule-breaking, fights, and cheating will lose your House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points wins the House Cup, and that House receives the honor of displaying it until the end of the next year. I hope everyone does their best to obtain it. Form a line and follow me."

The students fell into place as they exited through the single-entrance door. Hermione pulled in front of her as they walked past a pair of oak double doors, which opened as they approached.

The mess hall was lit with thousands of candles floating in midair. The older students watched from long mahogany tables; empty gold plates and goblets laid in front of them. Banners hung above their respective houses under an enchanted ceiling shining with stars, with red on the far-left, yellow on the left, blue on the right, and green on the far-right. Above the students floated pearl-white ghosts from every century, some of which waved as they walked between the middle tables.

At the head of the House Tables sat one perpendicular to the others. The professors sat behind it as they observed them, attitudes ranging from interest to disdainful boredom. In the middle of the table sat an old man with a long white beard and purple robes. _The staff table, then._

In front of the staff table was a stool with a frayed and grime-coated hat on it. As McGonagall moved to stand beside it, it burst into a song about the Houses. Holly was so taken aback she didn't truly attention until the end:

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

The older students and teachers applauded as the hat bent itself in a bow before it straightened. McGonagall unfurled a parchment sheet and began to call students forward.

* * *

"Granger, Hermione!"

Holly gave her a thumbs-up as she stepped forward. The hat was placed on her and the brim obscured her vision. _I hope this doesn't give me head lice._

"Huh!" The hat guffawed, his voice in her ear. "Why do you think I was made to be worn on the head, child? Now, let me see…" Moments of Hermione's life flashed before her eyes too quickly for her to register them. "Interesting." The hat muttered. "A witch who has encountered a demon, and so young..."

"Please don't tell anyone," She asked as the hat made a noise she couldn't interpret. "We aren't speaking out loud, are we?"

"No, we are not," confirmed the hat. "Your secret is safe within me, child. I am not here to judge one's past, merely account for it as I sort."

"Your breadth of knowledge is not the widest, though I can hardly blame you for that. Your drive to learn has suffered, but it might present itself yet again. Either way, that memory will help quite a bit."

"But knowledge isn't everything. Courage roars within you, I see; but courage for courage's sake is somewhat lacking..."

"But the ambition… and your resourcefulness… tch tch tch." The hat sounded as if he were smiling. "Of course, who you are is only part of it. But it seems to me, your best place would be… SLYTHERIN!"

The hat was lifted from her head to the applause of her House table. She sat down and let out a breath of exhilaration. This was not the best place for someone of her blood to be sorted, but she would manage. The two apes who guarded Draco on the train were here, and they believed her when she said she was a halfblood.

Things would be fine.

* * *

Daphne watched the brunette walk to Slytherin with narrowed eyes. She gave off an air of disinterest at her placement, but her last name didn't match any in her memory. _Muggles aren't meant for Slytherin._

"Greengrass, Daphne!" She threw her short hair behind her shoulders and stalked to the stool. A faint tug pushed against the Occlumency barrier she had been raising with Severus and shattered it. A headache bloomed behind her temples.

"I apologize," a voice tickled in her ear. "but I must see your memories so I can sort you properly. Not many children have studied Occlumency at your age."

"Yeah, whatever," she muttered. "Where am I going, then?"

"Your bravery weighs against you," said the hat. "While you have lived bravely, little of your actions can be deemed 'honorable'. I pass no judgement," the hat added as she growled. "I merely sort."

"Your ambition and desire to prove yourself are quite strong. Of intellect, no question. But your dedication," the hat mused. "It shines like a lantern through your years."

"Surely that isn't my strongest quality," she argued. "Put me in Ravenclaw and I'll prove I'm worthy of it." _I know I'm worthy of it._

The hat laughed. "My child, you misunderstand. I do not merely send children to a House based on their attributes. I sort based on the future, on where the most opportunity for each one of you lies." He chuckled, the sound like a hand running over a bedspread. "A seed of loyalty is buried deep inside you. I wonder how well you'll grow into it?"

The hat laughed a third time. "Stop laughing you piece of—"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The hat was lifted. Daphne stared at the hall of students dumbstruck. McGonagall nudged her and she rose, her House celebrating her arrival. The trim on her robes winked yellow. The color taunted her as the next student was sorted, and the next.

She stared at her plate as the students cheered.

* * *

"Potter, Holly!"

Holly stepped forward, ignoring the sudden quiet and the whispers. Her eyes saw the velvety black of the hat.

"That's interesting," the hat murmured in her ear. "Very interesting. Not a bad mind, you've had a lot of experience with magic already, yes?" Holly said nothing. She couldn't feel the stool underneath her, or Mozu around her neck, despite her consciously knowing she was still there. "Of course, you know that; it's all in your head. A patient character, and plenty of ambition."

"Enough to go to Slytherin?"

The hat chuckled. "You don't want to be separated from your friend. A noble idea, but not one I can cater to." The hat sounded amused. "Sorting isn't based on where you _want_ to go, it's based on where is _best_ for you to go."

"Then what is best for me?"

"You're one of the few who has ever asked," said the hat. "GRYFFINDOR!"

Holly felt the hat removed to the loudest peals of applause yet. Cheers echoed from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor alike. Many at the Slytherin table remained silent as they watched the celebration with scorn, although Hermione clapped for her, a regretful smile on her face. Draco clapped too, his eyes narrowed in a thoughtful squint as he glanced his goons, who joined in with the other Houses. The redheaded twins yelled "We got Potter! We got Potter!" as she walked to her table and sat next to the toad kid, Neville something.

"You humans are so loud," Mozu griped in her ear. "Enough is enough."

The last four students were sorted much quicker than she had taken, all leaving with an instant categorization. Two more joined Gryffindor: a tall black boy named Dean Thomas and Ron. She deadpanned across the hall; Hermione inclined her head to Draco. _Not an even trade in the slightest._

The last student, Zabini, became a Slytherin. McGonagall vanished the stool and took the Sorting Hat with her behind the staff table.

Once she had sat down, Albus Dumbledore stood. She recognized his face from her chocolate frog cards, and she recognized the name from the war hero stories about him that lingered on the continent.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore. All the noise in the hall died as he spoke. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! I have the fewest words to say to you all, and here they are: Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak! Now, tuck in!"

At Dumbledore's command, the plates filled with food. Roast beef, roast chicken, turkey, oysters, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, roast potatoes, boiled potatoes, mashed potatoes, chips, tureens of peas and carrots, crisps, lettuce with cucumber slices and cherry tomatoes, cheery red apples, gleaming pears, dinner rolls of every color, butter, and dishes of peppermints.

Holly piled her plate with cuts of turkey and mashed potatoes. "Pass a pear," she asked the light-skinned girl across from her.

As she began to fill a second plate, she felt Mozu curl down her arm. "Pass me some chicken," her familiar ordered. Holly obliged and carved some chicken breast, placing in her front of her as she took a chicken leg for herself.

"How did you know what she wanted?" she looked up. A sandy-haired boy, Seamus something, was staring at her. "That was right brilliant, that was."

"She's my familiar," Holly explained. "I can always tell."

A girl with light brown hair shuddered from her place down the table. "Familiar or not, I can't believe you let it ride you like that. Isn't it all slimy?"

Mozu swallowed her chicken piece and stared at the girl. "See, now you've insulted her," Holly smiled. "You can touch her if you want—she won't bite."

"I'll bite _you_ later," Mozu hissed. "Becoming your familiar is still the worst decision of my life.

Hesitantly, the girl reached out her hand and gently stroked her. "Wow," she said. "I never knew they were just… scaly." Before any other hands could touch her, Mozu darted onto the chicken tray and bit into its leg.

"No one else touches me until after the food," she hissed.

"She likes to be left alone when she eats," Holly said to the disappointment of her Housemates, grabbing Neville's hand before he infringed on Mozu's meal. "That chicken's hers now."

Her Housemates all introduced themselves as the meal went on. The sandy-haired boy was Seamus Finnigan, a halfblood; the light-skinned girl was Parvati Patil, an Indian native; the girl with light brown hair was Lavender Brown. The girl with dark brown hair was Fay Dunbar; the girl with dark skin Keila Luellen. The toad boy's name was Neville Longbottom, and the pale boy was Oliver Rivers.

After the desserts were served, Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet for a second time. The hall grew silent once again.

"Now that we are all fed and watered, I have a few announcements. First years should note that the Forbidden Forest's name is not a misnomer. As should a few of our older years. Mr. Filch," Dumbledore gestured to an odious man stroking a dust-colored furball at the staff table. "Has asked me to remind you that magic is not permitted in the corridors."

"And lastly, I must inform you that the third-floor corridor on the right side is off-limits to students, lest they wish to die a most painful death."

Holly looked from Dumbledore to the other students. Some were laughing, others had the same confused look she probably did.

"And now, bedtime. First years, please wait for your prefects. Off you trot!"

Students rose and dispersed until the first years were left alone with an assortment of older students. "First years, with us!" A redhead boy called from his place at the end of the House table. She imagined he must be related to Ron and his older brothers.

Next to him was a girl with olive skin and spikey black hair. A black choker poked from around her neck. "Nice snake," she winked at Holly.

"Nice hair,"

"My name is Percy," the redhead said, rather pompously.

"And I'm Gaia," the girl said. Her voice was much more relaxed than Percy's. "We're your prefects. If you need help finding your way around the castle, then talk to any of our counterparts. We'll help you find your way throughout the year."

Percy and Gaia led the pair through the halls to a room full of staircases. Portraits adorned the walls, some of which waved greeted them as they passed.

They were led to a portrait of a rather plump woman in a pink dress. "Password?" she asked.

"Caput Draconis," at Percy's words, the portrait swung open like a door. Inside was a spacious, cozy room full of armchairs. A fire flickered in the grate, and some older students were set up with a card game by an empty pinboard.

"Girls are with me on the right," said Gaia. She led them up a spiral staircase and stopped on the first landing. "Your belongings will be inside. Curfew is at nine o'clock on school nights, and ten o'clock on weekends. Try to be on time; The Fat Lady will open for you after curfew, but she will also report you to our Head of House. You met McGonagall coming in," Gaia grinned. "Does she seem like the professor you want doling punishments?" Lavender and Faye shook their heads. "Exactly."

"One last thing; boys are not allowed into the girls' tower. If one tries to come up, the stairs will turn into a slide and everyone on them has to ride the whole way down. So, find a broom cupboard if you want a snog, please; last year it happened every other day for two weeks and became tiresome very quickly." With that, she turned to leave. "Sleep well."

Inside, the girls found their beds arranged in a circle. Each with one fo their trunks at its base, a nightstand to the left of each bunk. Five windows peaked through the gaps, and a heater that looked ready to kick it sat in the middle.

Holly swapped with Keila to have the bed directly opposite the door. She climbed in and wished there were corners so she could sleep properly, but the middle bed was better than a central sightline.

She set Mozu up with a warming charm and slid her curtains shut. It had been a long day.

* * *

Hermione followed her prefects Moira O'Hare and Jonathan Allen through the corridors. While most of the students went up, she got the distinct impression they were going down. Only once they had reached the cellar did their prefects stop and turn to them.

"Slytherin House is located beneath the rest of the castle," Moira told them, an Irish jolt in her tongue. "It provides our house with the most safety and security."

"To enter," Jonathan took over. "You must know both the password and which wall to tell it to. The password and wall both change every fortnight, with changes posted in the common room." He turned and stepped beside the wall. "Lobster neck," he spoke.

The wall shuddered and vanished to reveal a dim archway. Once they were all inside, the doorway resealed itself.

She turned in place as she examined the room. Intricately carved walls surrounded them, cushioned chairs providing plenty of space to sit. Green lights cast an otherworldly glow on the room; as did the large bay windows whose panes seemed spelled to give the impression they were underwater.

"Yes, we are underneath the lake," Moira confirmed. "Occasionally, the giant squid, merfolk, and other creatures will swim by it. Do not be alarmed when they visit; they cannot attack the glass. Wards will push them away."

"Our Head of House, Professor Snape, has three simple rules." Jonathan picked up again. "One, our Houses' problems are our own. Most of the other students view Slytherins as villains from the start, so we will project a solid front when in the halls. There is no bad blood between us out there. Am I clear?"

_Yes, sir._ Hermione thought as her dormmates chanted aloud.

"This doesn't mean you cannot have friends outside of Slytherin," said Jonathan. "Interhouse relations are always to be encouraged. But fighting amongst Housemates takes place here and only here."

"Rule Two," Moira picked up the speech. Her eyes bore into Hermione's. "You follow the rules of our House. This includes our curfew, which is at nine on weeknights and ten on weekends. Never show anyone who isn't Slytherin inside our dorm, and never gripe about homework. You are here to learn."

"Yes ma'am," Hermione joined the chorus.

"And finally," the first years turned to see Professor Snape in the doorway. "If you break a rule, do not be foolish enough to be caught." He cast his eyes over the children. "I will not refuse due punishments upon you simply because you are in my House. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then off to bed." Their Head nodded to his prefects. "Be ready for classes tomorrow. Your schedules will be delivered to you at breakfast."

Moira led the girls to the left of the common area. "Dorms are in groups of two." She stopped beside a black door. "Inside, you have your own common area that divides into three bedrooms. Bathrooms are attached to each room. Your trunks have already been delivered." She cast an eye over the five girls. "Goodnight."

As the door shut the girl with the pug nose, Pansy, spoke. "I think I will have the single room, girls." She talked in a snobby, so sure-no-one-would-argue voice. "Does anyone want to challenge me on that?"

"Yes," Hermione said. The other three girls stepped away. "I'd like the single room, thank you very much."

Pansy sneered at her. "And what makes you think I'll give it to you?"

Hermione tilted her head. "Well, I figured if I asked nicely, you'd be considerate. But I suppose we could fight for it."

"Ahuh," Pansy snickered. "You think you can beat me, mudblood?" Lily Moon pulled in a sharp breath. "I don't think so."

Before any of the other girls could react, Hermione shot forward. She tackled Pansy across the gut, pinning her against the table. Moon shrieked and Pansy screamed in outrage as Hermione flipped out her transfigured knife and planted it into the wood beside Pansy's face.

Her wand in her free hand, Hermione glared over her shoulder. The other three girls flinched. Tracey Davis was the only one to have her wand out. _She's shaking, how cute._ "Go ahead," she tilted her head at the auburn-haired witch. "Cast something."

Tracey's hand shook too much for her to cast anything. She turned her eyes to Millicent and Lily. The former's attention was planted to Pansy's crying form. Lily's eyes were wide, and both of her hands covered her mouth.

The brunette turned to her captive. "And that's why I have the single room." She tilted her head to the left, wrenching the knife from the table as Pansy let out a sob.

She leaned down into Pansy's ear. "Never. Call me. A mudblood." She rose and cast Wingardium Leviosa on her trunk.

"Wonderful," Cress praised in her ear as she walked to the room farthest from the door. It swung shut behind her, closing with the faintest of clicks.

* * *

Daphne lay in her bed. Narcissa had been so sure she was destined for Ravenclaw. Now here she was, stuck in the House of the rejected, the least capable, the dredges that the other houses didn't want. Her prefects were pleasant enough, and her dormmates were in the middle of a 'get to know you' game session.

It didn't mean that Daphne liked the place she was in any less.

The entrance to their common room wasn't in a tower like the Gryffindors or the Ravenclaws. In wasn't underneath the lake like the Slytherins. No, it was simply another wing of the castle, tucked behind the kitchen hall. There wasn't even a proper lock; all you had to do was find the keyhole and ask it to 'please open'. Had Helga Hufflepuff _never _considered security?

Likewise, the 'rules' had been absurd. Be nice to others, do your homework, follow the school rules like a dutiful sheep. Even their common room bore the idea, with the windows gazing over dandelion fields and bricks inlaid with ivy and who cared what else. Their Head may be the Herbology professor, but that didn't mean everyone in the dorm would enjoy the subject!

Ever since the damned scrap of felt had shouted Hufflepuff she felt her plans crumble around her. She wasn't ambitious enough, or smart enough for the other houses? HER!?

Her seat at dinner had been an unfortunate choice. Parkinson and Davis had laughed at her throughout dinner. She tried to ignore them, but they would not leave her sideline. They were good enough for Slytherin, with the poorly thought out ploy to dominate her, but she wasn't?!

_I'll show them._ She'd be the best student in the damn school; she'd wire connections and network through the Houses. She'd gather a crew; she'd prove her worth. And lead the Greengrass name back to its former glory as she did.

Her dormmates broke into laughter again. Sick of their existence, she sat up and shut her curtains with a wave of her wand.

Thank god for silencing spells.


	6. First Lessons

**Chapter Five: New Arrivals**

* * *

****Reviewer Response: ****

**PascalDragon: **I'm glad the scene in Godric's Hollow hit your feels. It was supposed to, after all. Stan gets short-sold a lot in many fanfictions, but he's one of my favorite C-list characters, above Rufus Scrimgeour and just below Florean Fortescue.

**Sorting Hat's song tempo stolen from Billy Joel.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Hermione spent her summer days in Diagon Alley with Holly, exploring the cavalcade of shops and studying their curriculum before the year started. Holly's favorite was Florean Fortescue's, and although the odd flavors were interesting to try out, she preferred perusing the upper level of Flourish and Blotts, a cozy foyer where she could 'test out' books ranging from magical creatures to the magic of numbers. The occasional day would go to muggle London to loitering around shopping districts or hit up the cinemas. Holly often paid for their tickets so they could enjoy the popcorn, though they did sneak a double feature once so that they could see _The Silence of the Lambs. _Each night, they would return to the Leaky Cauldron, eat dinner in Holly's room, and hit the bed after swapping stories, although Holly told more often that not.

Her guilt over how much Holly was spending on her room trumped Cress's joy over his ability to remain uncloaked for longer periods of time on the third day of their stay. When she voiced her concerns, her friend laughed it off and explained that her trust fund had eleven years of stock in it to spend, plus the Potter family vault on top of that. She could afford privacy.

Another surprise was how thoroughly engrossing she found her studies. The sheer breadth the wizarding world covered seemed impossible given its total absence from the muggle side, but she supposed there must be a magical group that managed accidents and infractions. She did not attempt any spells during her first week at the Leaky Cauldron, preferring to watch Holly practice charms and transfigurations. Her streak of piety was broken as soon as Tom confirmed the Ministry of Magic could not properly detect who cast what spells at a magical location. After that, she tackled at least one spell a day, easily outstripping Holly's wand-bound practice.

She was surprised Holly wasn't as keen about Hogwarts as she was, although the redhead's explanation made sense. Having spent most of her life in the magical world, her friend was not thrilled with the idea of sitting in a classroom for the next ten months. Holly explained it as wanting to actually practice magic, and from what she had heard on the continent, Hogwarts placed a lot of emphasis on practicality.

Her friend's displeasure was only exacerbated by her wand's begrudging compliance with her. Hermione suspected that if she hadn't described the same hand sensation from her purchase, Holly would have gone back to Ollivander's and traded hers in for another.

On the first of September, Hermione awoke and fell through her normal routine. Despite her advice to pack the night prior, Holly waited until the last possible minute, which led to Hermione helping the redhead pack her trunk the morning of departure. Both of them were stuck with buttered toast for breakfast as Tom sent them through the Cauldron's floo to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters ten minutes before the train was scheduled to leave.

The platform was not easy to worm through. Families gave goodbye speeches to their children and there seemed to be more people than the platform could handle, everyone squashed together as the whistle blew the five-minute warning.

Hermione picked a train compartment in the middle of the stretch for them as other students ran the length of the train, searching for friends to make of re-connect with. They had just situated their trunks in the compartment overhead (Holly levitated them up with her bangles) when the train lurched. They were off.

Hermione stared out the window as she cooled off from the exertion, London passing before her eyes. Soon they were free of the concrete jungle, steadily moving past green paddocks. She turned her head at the sound of the compartment door.

A redheaded boy with a face full of freckles stood in the doorway, dirt on his nose and his trunk in his hand. "Mind if I sit with you?" He asked, his eyes focused on Holly. "Most everywhere else is full."

Holly glanced at her. "It's up to you," she offered.

"Sure, alright," Holly said. She activated her bangles and raised the boy's trunk to join theirs. "I'm Holly, and this is Hermione."

"Holly? Holly Potter?" The boy gasped. "No way."

"Yeah," said Holly, shifting so her back was to the window. She folded her feet into her chair as the boy sat in the seat next to hers. "I don't really want to talk about it though,"

"Oh, sure," the boy nodded eagerly. "I'm Ron, Ron Weasley. My little sister's going to be so jealous. She's a big fan of you," Hermione squinted at Ron as Holly's mouth contorted. "She's read all of your adventure books."

"Those aren't mine," replied Holly. "Whoever wrote them is going to be in a mess of trouble once I'm of age. Unauthorized use of my character and all."

"Oh," said Ron, his shoulders sagging for the briefest of intervals. "Well, that makes sense. I'd probably do the same if someone wrote a bunch of books about me." Her squint became a glare as she saw Ron's eyes climb to the top of Holly's. "Do you actually have the scar though?"

"She doesn't like to talk about it," she cut in. Their time roaming Diagon often ended because of stares and whispers from the masses. A crowd would always gather if someone uttered the fateful phrase "Look, it's the Girl-Who-Lived!"

Rarely did they say "Look, it's Holly Potter!"

And _nobody_ ever said: "Look, it's _Holly _Potter."

"Just drop it, will you?" She glared at the boy, who seemed stupified she was talking to him at all.

"Sorry," the boy muttered, not sounding sorry at all. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Hermione Granger," she replied. him less and less every second. "Don't you pay attention when someone introduces others?"

The boy's ears turned red. "No need to bite my head off about it. It's not like you've done anything special."

Holly stared at him, her head pulled back and her forehead raised. "Dude, rude," she said.

"Well she started it," he defended, gesturing to her with wide eyes. "I was only curious, is all."

"Alright, goodbye," Holly said. She unfolded herself on the seat and pulled Ron's trunk from the overhead. "You came in our compartment, you insulted my friend, and you're being annoying." She dropped the trunk on the floor and opened the compartment door with her bangles. "You can sit somewhere else."

Ron flapped his mouth open and closed like a fish. "Everywhere else is full!"

"Most everywhere else is full, you said." Hermione chimed in. "You'll just have to squeeze in with someone else."

Ron gaped between the two girls and lifted his trunk, storming out. Holly slammed the door behind him. "Jesus, he was a pain, wasn't he?"

"I hope he isn't in our house," Hermione shook her head. _How could one boy have so little self-awareness?_

The two played cards for the next hour as the express chugged past numerous fields of cattle and sheep. At one point, they spotted a family of centaurs hunting and managed to catch a wave in as the train passed by.

At a quarter to one, the door slid open to reveal a dimpled, middle-aged witch with grey streaks in her hair. "Anything from the cart, ladies?"

Holly purchased them two beef sandwiches, crisps, and a pair of water bottles, along with an assortment of wizarding sweets for herself.

"I still don't see why you buy so many of those," Hermione as she unwrapped her sandwich.

"I still don't understand how you can hate sweets," Holly replied as she opened a Chocolate Frog packet. "Yes!"

"Who did you collect this time?" Her friend's obsession with the cards that came with each frog was exhausting. Already she had Beowulf, Daedalus, Rasputin, Michael Scot, The Unknown Philosopher, Merlin, Morgana, Circe, Paracelsus, The Elder Mother, Agrippa, Jack Frost, Don Quixote, Marie Laveau, and Charlotta Roos. Hermione was intrigued by the moving pictures the first time Holly displayed her collection, but the second and the third were simply not as interesting.

"Baba Yaga!" Holly held up the card to showcase the stout, wild-haired woman as the Russian witch stuck her pinky in her ear. "I've been after her since she was announced in the '89 set!"

She rolled her eyes at her friends cheer as their door slid open. A pair of redheaded boys with identical features stepped inside. "How do you do?" Said the one on the left.

"We wanted to apologize for our brother," said the one on the right.

"We know he can be a git sometimes,"

"And he'd say sorry in person,"

"But he's still sulking." The left one finished. "I'm George, by the way."

"You numbskull, I'm George on Sundays."

"Ah. My mistake, George; I'm Fred then."

"Nice to meet you both," Hermione said as Hermione snickered. "Tell your brother we accept his apology, but remind him to be more polite."

The brothers nodded. "Let us know if you ever want to prank someone," said Fred.

"Or blow up a toilet seat," said George.

"But with your instructions, we shall take our leave." The brothers slipped back out into the corridor as Holly wiped tears from her eyes. "They're hilarious." She snickered. "I'm George on Sundays,"

_Yes, that was a joke they made._ Hermione shook her head. "I wouldn't be surprised if we're interrupted by another ten people at this point."

Hermione's prediction was proven half-right. A round-faced boy who looked as if he had been crying entered after a tunnel and asked if they had seen a toad; and a girl with strawberry-blonde hair came in not long after, asking the same question. Both visitors were told 'no' and offered some of the sweets. Holly's glare could've cut stone.

The train had spent ten minutes passing through thick woods and dark green hills when the door slid open a sixth time. A pale, smarmy boy with slicked-back blond hair entered, flanked by a boy larger in the waist and one larger in height, both of whom had pudgy, lumped up faces.

"Is it true The-Girl-Who-Lived is in this compartment?" The blond boy demanded.

Hermione exchanged a glance with Holly. "That would be me," said Holly reluctantly.

The blond kid nodded. "My name's Draco Malfoy." He stretched out a hand and Holly shook it, her bangles clanging on her arm. "What are those rings?"

"Romani bangles," Holly said, glad Draco was focused on something besides her scar. "I got them in Romania."

Draco was taken aback. "You've actually travelled the world?"

"Not the world," said Holly as Mozu shook herself awake. "Just some areas in Europe."

Draco nodded and turned to Hermione. "Who are you, then?"

"Hermione Granger," at her words the boy's incredulity morphed into a sneer.

"You're a mudblood, aren't you?"

"Not that I know of. I was left at an orphanage as a baby. I might be a mudblood or a halfblood, I don't know which."

Draco relaxed his face a bit. "Prove it then. Do some magic."

She tilted her head as she pulled out her wand. "Certainly. Wingardium Leviosa." At her words, the assorted collection of sweets, along with the empty boxes, exploding snap cards, and chocolate frog cards lifted into the air. They spun around in a miniature tornado before she released the spell and dropped everything in a clatter onto the floor and seats.

"That was pretty good," Draco said, approval on his face. His two lackeys grunted. "You must be a halfblood, then. Mudbloods aren't capable of that sort of power, not until they've been trained like the animals they are." Hermione kept her face blank at his words. "Are either of you trying for Slytherin?"

Holly shrugged. "I don't really care which House I'm sorted into. I know there's supposed to be a fierce rivalry between them, but I don't think I'll care enough to participate."

"Makes sense. I'd prefer Slytherin myself, but I couldn't care so long I don't land in Gryffindor. Slytherin was the House my father was in." His eyes rose over their heads. Hermione turned to see the sun setting, the dark beating against the window. "Well, see you at the sorting ceremony. Remember to keep the better families in mind when making friends." He swaggered off, a smirk on his face, his two gorillas lumbering after him.

"Did you have to throw my cards all over the floor with your little stunt?" Holly as she scrounged for them on the floor.

"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I was only trying to keep my head above the water in case I'm sorted into Slytherin."

"You're going to be in Ravenclaw," Holly told her for the twentieth time. "Someone who can learn spells as fast as you wouldn't go anywhere else."

"We will arrive in ten minutes," the trolley cart lady's voice rippled down the train, sounding like it was both far away and near at the same time. "Please change into your uniforms and leave your luggage on board. It will be moved to your dorms separately. Thank you."

Hermione saw Holly's face wrangle with distaste as she glanced at her luggage. The redhead's stories about living the homeless life came with a set of rules, one of the main ones being 'never leave anything you'd miss alone'. Her bags had been stolen twice before the lesson stuck. While her problem was not as bad _nor as manageable_ Hermione understood the feeling. Too many times she would find her dresser ransacked, at least before she was moved to her solitary confinement. _It'll be fine._

* * *

Daphne had spent her summer chained under Narcissa's rigid crash course in 'how to be a pureblood' 101. Her future position as Head of the House of Greengrass was more than a set-in-stone title to be worn; she had to learn her family's businesses (at one time, paragons for wizarding British-Chinese trade relations) and plot a method to regain control of her company. Investor recovery was difficult. So many had transferred their galleons to other families after her parents' demise, but a few souls were convinced her return promised a secure future with many happy returns.

Narcissa's course focused on her other expectations. Public image, proper etiquette, courting options, all were laid out and molded into her being. The study of her family's genealogy, her textbooks, and lessons with Professor Snape weighed heavily on her plate, but she would manage. It was a small price to pay for the world she was granted access to.

Snape's lessons were her favorite part of the workload since he was provided days off when needed. The first time he canceled the lesson, she had protested furiously. He had threatened to knock her out through force and ordered her to drink a concoction that put her out for a solid fourteen hours.

When she came back to the world of the living, she found a note from Narcissa about 'pushing herself too hard'. Her next lesson with the matriarch had circled entirely around magical exhaustion, and her curriculum classes were scaled back significantly, which she hated and enjoyed at the same time. But Severus kept her at the same threshold he had before his recommendations, pushing harder than he had before. His only new requirement was that she employ self-study if she had to miss an appointment. To have someone actively encouraging her to reach her limits, without ignoring their danger but acknowledging the freedom that came from finding them was freeing. Rook had done the first, Nikki had done the second,

_And Narcissa is still finding a balance between the two. _She stepped down from the train and made her way back to her benefactors. Lucius was quietly instructing Draco on something, but her focus was on her sister. While she had the same pureblood and genealogy lessons Daphne did, her sister had more opportunities to enjoy herself. Books with moving illustrations, fancy dresses, feeding exotic animals, a clear view of the night sky, catching fireflies. Her sister had a world of entertainment at her fingertips.

Astoria launched herself into her arms. "I'm going to miss you,"

Her heart stung. This would be the first time they would be without each other. "I'll miss you too," she said as she pulled away. "You better be nice to the Malfoys while I'm gone, okay?"

Astoria nodded, a brave tear slipping down her cheek "I'll write to you every week," she murmured, trying to keep her tears inside her eyes.

"I'll write back," Daphne bent and kissed her sister's forehead. She straightened to the posture she was coached into as Narcissa stepped to her. "Keep my sister out of trouble."

Narcissa inclined her head as the train's whistle blew. A cloud of steam enveloped the platform, driving families from the edge as the final students boarded.

She stepped on after Draco and made her way to her chosen compartment as the train lurched. She had no desire to share with Draco; he would undoubtedly spend the ride drawing attention to himself. Her plans couldn't be ruined by his miscalculated words.

Fifteen minutes into the ride, her door was opened by a girl with auburn hair. _Yes, you may come in._

The girl smiled politely as she sat in the chair diagonally opposite Daphne's. "I'm Tracey Davis. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Daphne Greengrass."

"Yours as well, Miss Davis." She kept her face neutral as the plane of the conversation shifted. Tracey's mask did not crack.

She hitched one of her kneecaps up and rested her chin on it. "How may I help you, Miss Davis?"

"There you are, Tracey!" A voice at an octave that was _too loud _covered the scraping noise of the compartment door. A pug-faced girl with brown hair stepped inside and sat next to the Davis heiress. "I was searching all over the train for you."

"Didn't take you very long," Daphne muttered. _If you're going to stage a hostile takeover, at least do it __**well.**_

"Pansy, this is Daphne Greengrass," Davis said, her tone that of a child showing off a new toy. "Daphne, this is Pansy Parkinson, heiress to the Parkinson seat among the Sacred Twenty-eight."

That caught her interest. Someone from the twenty-eight that wasn't named Malfoy would be helpful if things ever fell through with them.

"You're the long-lost Greengrass heiress, right?" Her lips pouted. "I'm so sorry for what happened to you. Living with the filthy muggles, can you imagine, Tracey?"

She didn't react. Severus had warned her about the dispositions some members of magical society held towards muggles.

"It'd be like living with animals," Tracey agreed. "But now that you are back where you belong, we can show you the best place for you to be."

"And where is that?"

Tracey smiled, her chin jutting forward. "Why, right beside me of course! My family has heard the rumors that you are thinking of reopening your family's trade ventures."

"That's correct," she brushed at her robe. "You are willing to invest in us so soon? I never would have expected that, but if you are willing..."

Tracey faltered as Pany twisted her lips. "I was thinking more along the lines of our businesses merging."

"A partnership, then." She laughed internally at her intentional misunderstandings.

"Something like that," Tracey conceded. Her eyes were no longer sparkling with the cheer of an easy solution. "Watching your business claw its disarray and crumble further would be bad for business. It wouldn't do for our mutual acquaintances to think that all British businesses are bad investments."

She stared at the patient masks across from her. "You are saying that with your help, I could ensure the success of my family's business?" A minute trembled managed to leak into her voice.

"And since you would become allies of the Davis family, you could become allies with mine as well," Pansy interjected. "It wouldn't be good for the Greengrass's restoration if they were associated with the taint of suspicion from everyone around them."

"No, it wouldn't." She stared at the patient masks across from her. _Too bad I know there are no free things in this world. _"There is a part I don't understand, though." She moved her eyes from Tracey's to Pansy's and back again. "My family's trade business is already on the rebound. We don't have the fleet we once did, but many of our old partners have already pledged they would much rather trade with me than... current options." Tracey's lip curled. "I don't think they would be happy if I abandoned them to be absorbed by one such current option."

"And as for a tainted reputation," she beamed at Pansy. "Your argument would be a lot more convincing if your family wasn't already in talks to join the Malfoys."

"I think I will have to pass on your gracious offer."

"It might not come around a second time," Tracey said quietly. "If I were you, I wouldn't be so rash."

"Let it go, Tracey," Pansy huffed. "It seems her time with the mudbloods has made her too stupid to think as a proper witch should." She shook her head. "What would your parents think of such a lifestyle?" Daphne's fury trembled at the seams. "Good thing they aren't here to see it."

_Don't punch her in the face, don't punch her in the face. _"Next time you insult my family, I don't think I'll be able to stop myself from hexing you. Not that it wouldn't improve your looks." She glared at them. "Now, get out of my compartment."

Pansy's nostrils flared. It did not alleviate her unfortunate dog-related appearance, in fact, it enhanced it. "Of course, Greengrass," she replied coolly. "Just know you have sealed your names' fate as a forgotten power today." She turned tail, Tracey fuming behind her. The compartment door rattled shut.

_Goddmanit. _She fumed as she cast a locking spell on it. She could already imagine Narcissa's reaction to the situation. _"You should have played it closer, you should have held your tongue. Collect as much information on why someone thinks what they do and then turn them away."_

_So I ought to grovel beneath an inbred bitch and her lap dog? No. _No. She was a Greengrass. She wouldn't cower beneath anyone's feet or take a place of subservience. Not for Parkinson, not for one of the Twenty-Eight, not for _anyone._

She cast the most powerful silencing charm she could muster on the compartment doors and she screamed.

* * *

Holly frowned at the horde of students pouring onto the much-too small platform. Everyone was shouting and shoving as more and more people came off the train cars. _Typical wizarding inefficiency. _Someone's elbow caught her in the ribs.

"Oi! Stop pushing me!" An older boy shouted, about six heads away from her. "I'm not moving until I've got a glimpse of Potter!"

"Potter?" "_Holly _Potter?" "She's starting this year?" "Where's she at?" "Which House do you think she'll be in?" She swallowed as her name made its rounds in the crowd. Without meaning to, her hand snagged around Hermione's as she stooped down to avoid the attention.

A large hand clapped her on the back. She looked up to see an enormous man with a shaggy beard and a mane of wild hair grinning at her. He pushed her behind him, ripping her hand from Hermione's.

"Tha's enough o' that, yeh lot! Even if Holly Potter is at 'Ogwarts now, tha's no excuse to be actin' like she's an erumpent. Now, move off for them carriages, tha's it. Firs' years, this way!" His bellowed.

The man turned to Holly and gave her a hearty grin. "Nice to meet yeh, Holly. Knew yer parents, I did." He bobbed his head. "We'll talk abou' that some other time, eh? Firs' years, after me!" He boomed again. The older students walked to the trees, guided by lampposts as the crowd thinned to the shortest among them.

"Mind yer step!" The man shouted as he opened the lantern. Fireflies flew out and gathered around the students as they followed along a dirt path littered with stones and tree roots. She heard the faint sound of water lapping at on a bank. "We'll be seein' Hogwarts jus' after this bend!" The man called as they rounded a turn of thick trees.

Several students gasped as they came around the bend. On the other side of a black lake rose a mountainous castle, its parapets blocking out the light of the moon. Windows sparkled with warm, orange light as the water gently lapped the bank. _I've seen better._

"Righ', everyone'll have to share boats! No more'n four to one!" The man bellowed as he pointed to a fleet of dinghies. The fireflies lifted from their place surrounding the students to hover around the dock.

She and Hermione took one of the furthest boats. They were joined by the crying boy from the train and the strawberry-blonde helping him. "Did you find your toad?" He started at her question and nodded.

"Everyone aboard?" The man asked from his boat. "Yes? Righ' then—FORWARD!" He pointed a pink umbrella toward the castle.

The boats glided forwards over the black water. Once they were a good bit across the lake, something surfaced. Two shadowy curls lifted from the water, twirling in the moonlight.

"Calm down, it's only the giant squid!" The man yelled as a girl screamed.

The tentacles rose and smacked the lake, splashing water onto some of the front boats. Holly made out Ron Weasley's voice and elbowed Hermione. She smirked.

The boats drew nearer and nearer to a cliff face, the castle growing as they closed in on its perch above the water. "Heads down!" Their guide bellowed. Holly complied, stringy strands of ivy batting her face as they went into a tunnel. The water's surface reflected off the walls and ceiling as the boats ran aground onto a shoal of pebbles.

"Careful now, careful!" The man shouted as the boats carved through the shoals as if they were butter. "Wait 'till we're outta the tide befer yeh get out."

At the man's signal, they clambered out the boats and followed him up a passageway carved in the rock. The fireflies continued to light their way until they reached the surface. Holly closed in her eyes as a cool breeze passed by.

When she opened her eyes the fireflies were fleeing into the night along the wind. Hermione was waiting for her as the rest of their group marched ahead.

They caught up and joined the rest in front of a set of massive oak doors. The man knocked on them three times, the sound echoing of the fortress's walls.

McGonagall answered the door. She had swapped her cardigan and khakis for an emerald-green set of robes. Her face didn't change at Holly's wave.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall." The man nodded.

"Thank you, Hagrid. Children, follow me." She called out in a light brogue. She turned and led them into the entrance hall. Torches spouting rich red flames adorned the walls alongside a marble staircase that stretched on before it split in two right turns. Inlaid in the wall between the split were four enlarged hourglasses, each with different precious stones within them: sunset-yellow citrines, blood-red rubies, deep blue sapphires, and rich green emeralds.

McGonagall led them into a cramped room to the left of where the other students were gathered, judging by the noise. Another elbow caught Holly in the ribs and Mozu hissed.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin after your sorting. I'm sure many of you know our Houses," she waited as a snicker arose from Draco and his friends. "but for those of you who do not, there are four: Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are at Hogwarts, your House will be akin to your family. Collectively, you will work throughout the year to gain House Points. The hourglasses we saw on the staircase are the counters."

She eyed the amassed students sharply. "Your triumphs, good deeds, and impressive schoolwork will earn your House points. Rule-breaking, fights, and cheating will lose your House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points wins the House Cup, and that House receives the honor of displaying it until the end of the next year. I hope everyone does their best to obtain it. Form a line and follow me."

The students fell into place as they exited through the single-entrance door. Hermione pulled in front of her as they walked past a pair of oak double doors, which opened as they approached.

The mess hall was lit with thousands of candles floating in midair. The older students watched from long mahogany tables; empty gold plates and goblets laid in front of them. Banners hung above their respective houses under an enchanted ceiling shining with stars, with red on the far-left, yellow on the left, blue on the right, and green on the far-right. Above the students floated pearl-white ghosts from every century, some of which waved as they walked between the middle tables.

At the head of the House Tables sat one perpendicular to the others. The professors sat behind it as they observed them, attitudes ranging from interest to disdainful boredom. In the middle of the table sat an old man with a long white beard and purple robes. _The staff table, then._

In front of the staff table was a stool with a frayed and grime-coated hat on it. As McGonagall moved to stand beside it, it burst into a song about the Houses. Holly was so taken aback she didn't truly attention until the end:

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

The older students and teachers applauded as the hat bent itself in a bow before it straightened. McGonagall unfurled a parchment sheet and began to call students forward.

* * *

"Granger, Hermione!"

Holly gave her a thumbs-up as she stepped forward. The hat was placed on her and the brim obscured her vision. _I hope this doesn't give me head lice._

"Huh!" The hat guffawed, his voice in her ear. "Why do you think I was made to be worn on the head, child? Now, let me see…" Moments of Hermione's life flashed before her eyes too quickly for her to register them. "Interesting." The hat muttered. "A witch who has encountered a demon, and so young..."

"Please don't tell anyone," She asked as the hat made a noise she couldn't interpret. "We aren't speaking out loud, are we?"

"No, we are not," confirmed the hat. "Your secret is safe within me, child. I am not here to judge one's past, merely account for it as I sort."

"Your breadth of knowledge is not the widest, though I can hardly blame you for that. Your drive to learn has suffered, but it might present itself yet again. Either way, that memory will help quite a bit."

"But knowledge isn't everything. Courage roars within you, I see; but courage for courage's sake is somewhat lacking..."

"But the ambition… and your resourcefulness… tch tch tch." The hat sounded as if he were smiling. "Of course, who you are is only part of it. But it seems to me, your best place would be… SLYTHERIN!"

The hat was lifted from her head to the applause of her House table. She sat down and let out a breath of exhilaration. This was not the best place for someone of her blood to be sorted, but she would manage. The two apes who guarded Draco on the train were here, and they believed her when she said she was a halfblood.

Things would be fine.

* * *

Daphne watched the brunette walk to Slytherin with narrowed eyes. She gave off an air of disinterest at her placement, but her last name didn't match any in her memory. _Muggles aren't meant for Slytherin._

"Greengrass, Daphne!" She threw her short hair behind her shoulders and stalked to the stool. A faint tug pushed against the Occlumency barrier she had been raising with Severus and shattered it. A headache bloomed behind her temples.

"I apologize," a voice tickled in her ear. "but I must see your memories so I can sort you properly. Not many children have studied Occlumency at your age."

"Yeah, whatever," she muttered. "Where am I going, then?"

"Your bravery weighs against you," said the hat. "While you have lived bravely, little of your actions can be deemed 'honorable'. I pass no judgement," the hat added as she growled. "I merely sort."

"Your ambition and desire to prove yourself are quite strong. Of intellect, no question. But your dedication," the hat mused. "It shines like a lantern through your years."

"Surely that isn't my strongest quality," she argued. "Put me in Ravenclaw and I'll prove I'm worthy of it." _I know I'm worthy of it._

The hat laughed. "My child, you misunderstand. I do not merely send children to a House based on their attributes. I sort based on the future, on where the most opportunity for each one of you lies." He chuckled, the sound like a hand running over a bedspread. "A seed of loyalty is buried deep inside you. I wonder how well you'll grow into it?"

The hat laughed a third time. "Stop laughing you piece of—"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The hat was lifted. Daphne stared at the hall of students dumbstruck. McGonagall nudged her and she rose, her House celebrating her arrival. The trim on her robes winked yellow. The color taunted her as the next student was sorted, and the next.

She stared at her plate as the students cheered.

* * *

"Potter, Holly!"

Holly stepped forward, ignoring the sudden quiet and the whispers. Her eyes saw the velvety black of the hat.

"That's interesting," the hat murmured in her ear. "Very interesting. Not a bad mind, you've had a lot of experience with magic already, yes?" Holly said nothing. She couldn't feel the stool underneath her, or Mozu around her neck, despite her consciously knowing she was still there. "Of course, you know that; it's all in your head. A patient character, and plenty of ambition."

"Enough to go to Slytherin?"

The hat chuckled. "You don't want to be separated from your friend. A noble idea, but not one I can cater to." The hat sounded amused. "Sorting isn't based on where you _want_ to go, it's based on where is _best_ for you to go."

"Then what is best for me?"

"You're one of the few who has ever asked," said the hat. "GRYFFINDOR!"

Holly felt the hat removed to the loudest peals of applause yet. Cheers echoed from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor alike. Many at the Slytherin table remained silent as they watched the celebration with scorn, although Hermione clapped for her, a regretful smile on her face. Draco clapped too, his eyes narrowed in a thoughtful squint as he glanced his goons, who joined in with the other Houses. The redheaded twins yelled "We got Potter! We got Potter!" as she walked to her table and sat next to the toad kid, Neville something.

"You humans are so loud," Mozu griped in her ear. "Enough is enough."

The last four students were sorted much quicker than she had taken, all leaving with an instant categorization. Two more joined Gryffindor: a tall black boy named Dean Thomas and Ron. She deadpanned across the hall; Hermione inclined her head to Draco. _Not an even trade in the slightest._

The last student, Zabini, became a Slytherin. McGonagall vanished the stool and took the Sorting Hat with her behind the staff table.

Once she had sat down, Albus Dumbledore stood. She recognized his face from her chocolate frog cards, and she recognized the name from the war hero stories about him that lingered on the continent.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore. All the noise in the hall died as he spoke. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! I have the fewest words to say to you all, and here they are: Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak! Now, tuck in!"

At Dumbledore's command, the plates filled with food. Roast beef, roast chicken, turkey, oysters, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, roast potatoes, boiled potatoes, mashed potatoes, chips, tureens of peas and carrots, crisps, lettuce with cucumber slices and cherry tomatoes, cheery red apples, gleaming pears, dinner rolls of every color, butter, and dishes of peppermints.

Holly piled her plate with cuts of turkey and mashed potatoes. "Pass a pear," she asked the light-skinned girl across from her.

As she began to fill a second plate, she felt Mozu curl down her arm. "Pass me some chicken," her familiar ordered. Holly obliged and carved some chicken breast, placing in her front of her as she took a chicken leg for herself.

"How did you know what she wanted?" she looked up. A sandy-haired boy, Seamus something, was staring at her. "That was right brilliant, that was."

"She's my familiar," Holly explained. "I can always tell."

A girl with light brown hair shuddered from her place down the table. "Familiar or not, I can't believe you let it ride you like that. Isn't it all slimy?"

Mozu swallowed her chicken piece and stared at the girl. "See, now you've insulted her," Holly smiled. "You can touch her if you want—she won't bite."

"I'll bite _you_ later," Mozu hissed. "Becoming your familiar is still the worst decision of my life.

Hesitantly, the girl reached out her hand and gently stroked her. "Wow," she said. "I never knew they were just… scaly." Before any other hands could touch her, Mozu darted onto the chicken tray and bit into its leg.

"No one else touches me until after the food," she hissed.

"She likes to be left alone when she eats," Holly said to the disappointment of her Housemates, grabbing Neville's hand before he infringed on Mozu's meal. "That chicken's hers now."

Her Housemates all introduced themselves as the meal went on. The sandy-haired boy was Seamus Finnigan, a halfblood; the light-skinned girl was Parvati Patil, an Indian native; the girl with light brown hair was Lavender Brown. The girl with dark brown hair was Fay Dunbar; the girl with dark skin Keila Luellen. The toad boy's name was Neville Longbottom, and the pale boy was Oliver Rivers.

After the desserts were served, Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet for a second time. The hall grew silent once again.

"Now that we are all fed and watered, I have a few announcements. First years should note that the Forbidden Forest's name is not a misnomer. As should a few of our older years. Mr. Filch," Dumbledore gestured to an odious man stroking a dust-colored furball at the staff table. "Has asked me to remind you that magic is not permitted in the corridors."

"And lastly, I must inform you that the third-floor corridor on the right side is off-limits to students, lest they wish to die a most painful death."

Holly looked from Dumbledore to the other students. Some were laughing, others had the same confused look she probably did.

"And now, bedtime. First years, please wait for your prefects. Off you trot!"

Students rose and dispersed until the first years were left alone with an assortment of older students. "First years, with us!" A redhead boy called from his place at the end of the House table. She imagined he must be related to Ron and his older brothers.

Next to him was a girl with olive skin and spikey black hair. A black choker poked from around her neck. "Nice snake," she winked at Holly.

"Nice hair,"

"My name is Percy," the redhead said, rather pompously.

"And I'm Gaia," the girl said. Her voice was much more relaxed than Percy's. "We're your prefects. If you need help finding your way around the castle, then talk to any of our counterparts. We'll help you find your way throughout the year."

Percy and Gaia led the pair through the halls to a room full of staircases. Portraits adorned the walls, some of which waved greeted them as they passed.

They were led to a portrait of a rather plump woman in a pink dress. "Password?" she asked.

"Caput Draconis," at Percy's words, the portrait swung open like a door. Inside was a spacious, cozy room full of armchairs. A fire flickered in the grate, and some older students were set up with a card game by an empty pinboard.

"Girls are with me on the right," said Gaia. She led them up a spiral staircase and stopped on the first landing. "Your belongings will be inside. Curfew is at nine o'clock on school nights, and ten o'clock on weekends. Try to be on time; The Fat Lady will open for you after curfew, but she will also report you to our Head of House. You met McGonagall coming in," Gaia grinned. "Does she seem like the professor you want doling punishments?" Lavender and Faye shook their heads. "Exactly."

"One last thing; boys are not allowed into the girls' tower. If one tries to come up, the stairs will turn into a slide and everyone on them has to ride the whole way down. So, find a broom cupboard if you want a snog, please; last year it happened every other day for two weeks and became tiresome very quickly." With that, she turned to leave. "Sleep well."

Inside, the girls found their beds arranged in a circle. Each with one fo their trunks at its base, a nightstand to the left of each bunk. Five windows peaked through the gaps, and a heater that looked ready to kick it sat in the middle.

Holly swapped with Keila to have the bed directly opposite the door. She climbed in and wished there were corners so she could sleep properly, but the middle bed was better than a central sightline.

She set Mozu up with a warming charm and slid her curtains shut. It had been a long day.

* * *

Hermione followed her prefects Moira O'Hare and Jonathan Allen through the corridors. While most of the students went up, she got the distinct impression they were going down. Only once they had reached the cellar did their prefects stop and turn to them.

"Slytherin House is located beneath the rest of the castle," Moira told them, an Irish jolt in her tongue. "It provides our house with the most safety and security."

"To enter," Jonathan took over. "You must know both the password and which wall to tell it to. The password and wall both change every fortnight, with changes posted in the common room." He turned and stepped beside the wall. "Lobster neck," he spoke.

The wall shuddered and vanished to reveal a dim archway. Once they were all inside, the doorway resealed itself.

She turned in place as she examined the room. Intricately carved walls surrounded them, cushioned chairs providing plenty of space to sit. Green lights cast an otherworldly glow on the room; as did the large bay windows whose panes seemed spelled to give the impression they were underwater.

"Yes, we are underneath the lake," Moira confirmed. "Occasionally, the giant squid, merfolk, and other creatures will swim by it. Do not be alarmed when they visit; they cannot attack the glass. Wards will push them away."

"Our Head of House, Professor Snape, has three simple rules." Jonathan picked up again. "One, our Houses' problems are our own. Most of the other students view Slytherins as villains from the start, so we will project a solid front when in the halls. There is no bad blood between us out there. Am I clear?"

_Yes, sir._ Hermione thought as her dormmates chanted aloud.

"This doesn't mean you cannot have friends outside of Slytherin," said Jonathan. "Interhouse relations are always to be encouraged. But fighting amongst Housemates takes place here and only here."

"Rule Two," Moira picked up the speech. Her eyes bore into Hermione's. "You follow the rules of our House. This includes our curfew, which is at nine on weeknights and ten on weekends. Never show anyone who isn't Slytherin inside our dorm, and never gripe about homework. You are here to learn."

"Yes ma'am," Hermione joined the chorus.

"And finally," the first years turned to see Professor Snape in the doorway. "If you break a rule, do not be foolish enough to be caught." He cast his eyes over the children. "I will not refuse due punishments upon you simply because you are in my House. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then off to bed." Their Head nodded to his prefects. "Be ready for classes tomorrow. Your schedules will be delivered to you at breakfast."

Moira led the girls to the left of the common area. "Dorms are in groups of two." She stopped beside a black door. "Inside, you have your own common area that divides into three bedrooms. Bathrooms are attached to each room. Your trunks have already been delivered." She cast an eye over the five girls. "Goodnight."

As the door shut the girl with the pug nose, Pansy, spoke. "I think I will have the single room, girls." She talked in a snobby, so sure-no-one-would-argue voice. "Does anyone want to challenge me on that?"

"Yes," Hermione said. The other three girls stepped away. "I'd like the single room, thank you very much."

Pansy sneered at her. "And what makes you think I'll give it to you?"

Hermione tilted her head. "Well, I figured if I asked nicely, you'd be considerate. But I suppose we could fight for it."

"Ahuh," Pansy snickered. "You think you can beat me, mudblood?" Lily Moon pulled in a sharp breath. "I don't think so."

Before any of the other girls could react, Hermione shot forward. She tackled Pansy across the gut, pinning her against the table. Moon shrieked and Pansy screamed in outrage as Hermione flipped out her transfigured knife and planted it into the wood beside Pansy's face.

Her wand in her free hand, Hermione glared over her shoulder. The other three girls flinched. Tracey Davis was the only one to have her wand out. _She's shaking, how cute._ "Go ahead," she tilted her head at the auburn-haired witch. "Cast something."

Tracey's hand shook too much for her to cast anything. She turned her eyes to Millicent and Lily. The former's attention was planted to Pansy's crying form. Lily's eyes were wide, and both of her hands covered her mouth.

The brunette turned to her captive. "And that's why I have the single room." She tilted her head to the left, wrenching the knife from the table as Pansy let out a sob.

She leaned down into Pansy's ear. "Never. Call me. A mudblood." She rose and cast Wingardium Leviosa on her trunk.

"Wonderful," Cress praised in her ear as she walked to the room farthest from the door. It swung shut behind her, closing with the faintest of clicks.

* * *

Daphne lay in her bed. Narcissa had been so sure she was destined for Ravenclaw. Now here she was, stuck in the House of the rejected, the least capable, the dredges that the other houses didn't want. Her prefects were pleasant enough, and her dormmates were in the middle of a 'get to know you' game session.

It didn't mean that Daphne liked the place she was in any less.

The entrance to their common room wasn't in a tower like the Gryffindors or the Ravenclaws. In wasn't underneath the lake like the Slytherins. No, it was simply another wing of the castle, tucked behind the kitchen hall. There wasn't even a proper lock; all you had to do was find the keyhole and ask it to 'please open'. Had Helga Hufflepuff _never _considered security?

Likewise, the 'rules' had been absurd. Be nice to others, do your homework, follow the school rules like a dutiful sheep. Even their common room bore the idea, with the windows gazing over dandelion fields and bricks inlaid with ivy and who cared what else. Their Head may be the Herbology professor, but that didn't mean everyone in the dorm would enjoy the subject!

Ever since the damned scrap of felt had shouted Hufflepuff she felt her plans crumble around her. She wasn't ambitious enough, or smart enough for the other houses? HER!?

Her seat at dinner had been an unfortunate choice. Parkinson and Davis had laughed at her throughout dinner. She tried to ignore them, but they would not leave her sideline. They were good enough for Slytherin, with the poorly thought out ploy to dominate her, but she wasn't?!

_I'll show them._ She'd be the best student in the damn school; she'd wire connections and network through the Houses. She'd gather a crew; she'd prove her worth. And lead the Greengrass name back to its former glory as she did.

Her dormmates broke into laughter again. Sick of their existence, she sat up and shut her curtains with a wave of her wand.

Thank god for silencing spells.


	7. Murder Based Companionship

**Chapter Seven: Murder Based Companionship**

* * *

**If stabbed, please dial '999' and wait for assistance.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Holly glared at her London Particular as her stomach refused to let her eat. Her appetite had more or less evened out at the end of August, but there were still some days where she could not manage all three meals. Today was one of those days.

"Holly? Are you feeling okay?" Keila asked her.

"Sure," she lied as she pushed her plate away from her. "Just not in the mood for eating,"

"Nervous about flying lessons?"

"You shouddin be so orried." Ron but in, spraying flecks of bread onto the table. "Blying is one oph the eaziest fings you can do."

"Chew your food, Ron," Lavender said, her nose wrinkling as he swallowed.

"Sorry," he said as he took in a breath. "I said 'flying is one of the easiest things you can do'. Pull up for up, push down for down, lean back to brake and lean forwards to move. It's a lot simpler than you're probably thinking."

"It seems simple to you because you grew up with it," Dean interjected. "Most people don't really go into the air unless they have to."

"What do muggles do for sports then?" said Lavender.

As Dean began explaining what soccer was, Holly pulled out her Transfiguration textbook and read the chapter assigned the previous class. She didn't put it past McGonagall to drop a pop quiz on the same day her class was to have flying lessons.

At two-thirty, she and the others stepped out into the blaring heat for flying lessons. The Slytherins had beaten them out there, milling about before the lesson could begin.

"Took you lot long enough, didn't it?" Pansy asked, a nasty grin on her face. "What happened, did you get lost following a niffler, Weasley?"

"That can't be right," a boy with dark brown hair and sunken eyes said from beside her. "He'd be blabbing about how he could finally afford a proper wand."

"Shut your mouth, Nott." Ron snarled at him. "I'd rather have a second-hand wand than a legacy twig from my Death-Eater father."

Nott stepped forward as a whistled sounded from above them. "There will be none of that," Hooch said as she lighted on the yard. A bundle of broomsticks caught up with her and dropped to the grass. "Flying is not a class for horseplay." Hooch's yellow eyes surveyed them from under her greying brown hair. _She looks like a short-eared owl with that haircut._

"If anyone fools around, they will be grounded and given some parchment work for the week. These aren't toys we're dealing with. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Madam Hooch." The class chorused.

"Good. Everyone, grab a broom and line up over here."

Once everyone was in place, Hooch instructed them how to mount their brooms, fixing any erroneous holds. "Kick off when I blow my whistle," Hooch commanded. "I don't care if you've been on a broom since you were eight months old, nobody should rise any higher than a few feet. Ready?"

As Holly floated up, a rush of wind snapped at her hair. She turned to see the cause and saw that Neville had shot forward and up, and was now racing past the second-story of the castle, screaming every second of the way.

"Oh, hell," Hooch murmured as she shot off to rescue him.

"He's going to fall if he doesn't even up," said Draco. Neville, still screaming, pulled a loop de loop in midair to avoid a gargoyle. He must have gotten too dizzy because his grip slipped. The broom stopped. Neville didn't.

"He's falling," Nott snickered. "You think we'll finally learn if a squib can bounce?"

Hooch shot out to grab him and seemed to think better of it. Her wand flashed orange. "Arresto Momentum!"

One of the girls screamed as Neville drew closer to the ground. The spell connected just before he landed, his arm and body creating a heavy thump on the grass.

Hooch landed next to him, her wand emitting green swirls of light. The light surrounded Neville and spun around his arm. "Broken wrist," she murmured. "Come on, up you get." She pulled Neville to his feet as he shuddered, tear tracks on his face.

"You there, Thomas, walk him to the hospital wing. Come back after you drop him off and we'll continue."

"Hey!" Holly looked down to see Hermione's elbow in her gut. "What was that for?"

Hermione flicked her eyes behind them. Holly turned and saw Nott standing where Neville had landed. He bent down and picked a glass orb from the ground, a smirk on his face. She shrugged and focused back onto Hooch.

By the end of the period, she was sweaty, tired, and frustrated with the lack of progress. The lesson had been a series of instructions on how to properly maneuver their brooms, with a few trial exercises sprinkled in. She wasn't the only one who was bored, Draco looked ready to land and walk from the lesson, and Seamus mumbled under his breath about the misfortunes of life.

As she slid her anchor rings in place, a burst of laughter sounded from the Slytherins. "Who wants to place bets on how long it will be before the squid remembers this?" Nott cheered, Neville's Remembrall in his hand.

"Oi, give that here, Nott!" Ron shouted. "That's Neville's, you ponce."

"Do tell, Weasley," Nott replied. "I'll think I'll stash it somewhere safe for him to find it. How about up a tree?"

"Just hand it over!" Ron demanded. He made a move to grab it, and Nott raised it out of his reach.

"Finders, keepers, Weasley. But if you want it back so badly, you'll have to catch it."

Nott spun on his heel and hurled the Remembrall across the yard.

Holly shot forward. Her bangles emitted a noise like firecrackers as she alternated rocketing charms between them, chanting Erucae as she sailed over the lawn. Her eyes zeroed in on the orb as it's arc dropped, gravity pulling it down as she pushed forward again.

She swiveled at the last second and snatched the ball from midair. One final turn and she crashed into the lawn cutting a streak of mud across the grass as her momentum dug a small trench for her landing.

The Gryffindors cheered as she rose, Remembrall in hand. Theodore sneered and whisked from the scene of the crime, most of the other Slytherins behind him. Draco lingered for a second, his head turned to Hermione, who might've given a small smile before she headed toward the castle. Draco and his posse followed her inside.

The Gryffindors swarmed her, congratulating her on a job well done. Dean gave her a hard thump on the back, and Parvati was trying to clean the lawn off of her as the rest of her yearmates celebrated her success.

"MISS POTTER!"

The celebration stopped instantly. McGonagall stalked towards them, shock written across her normally stoic features.

"Never in all my time of Hogwarts have I seen someone do something so ill-considered!" McGonagall shouted. "Casting rocketing charms on yourself?! What on earth were you thinking?!"

"She was trying to catch Neville's—"

"I know _why_ she did it, Miss Patil." McGonagall's glasses flashed. "All of you inside, now. Miss Potter, follow me."

Holly rolled her eyes as she followed her Head of House back into the building. She was sure McGonagall was going to give her detention out for using magic in the halls.

_I'll refuse it_. _After all, I wasn't technically inside, was I? _They turned down the Transfiguration corridor.

She followed McGonagall into her office. Holly thought about sitting in the chair and decided against it as a blob of mud slid down her shirt.

McGonagall sat behind her desk. "What do you know about Quidditch, Miss Potter?"

She blinked. "Quidditch, Professor?"

McGonagall nodded. "Quidditch."

"Um… not much?" _Why are we talking about Quidditch? _"Excuse me for asking, Professor, but aren't I being punished?"

McGonagall sighed. "I ought to," she muttered. Her eyes proved she meant it. "Casting dangerous spells in such close proximity to your limbs over a paperweight is not an activity you should repeat again. However," she paused and cast a cleaning spell on Holly. "I don't think I will."

"Alright," said Holly as she sat in the chair. "So why are we in your office?"

"How would you like to be on the Gryffindor House Quidditch team, Miss Potter?"

Holly stared at her. "What?"

"The House team, Miss Potter," McGonagall repeated. "The catch you managed to make was an impressive feat. Our House Quidditch Team is in desperate need of a good Seeker, as Charlie Weasley graduated last year." She looked down her glasses at Holly. "Would you be interested in joining?"

"Will you give me detention if I say no?"

McGonagall drew her head back. "No,"

"Then no," she replied. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I don't care to join the Quidditch Team with special considerations. I hear enough accusations of 'famous favoritism' already."

She waited as McGonagall stared at her. Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. Half a minute.

"That was not the answer I was hoping for, Miss Potter." Her Head of House adjusted her glasses and nodded. "But I admire your decision. Five points to Gryffindor for saving a classmate's property, and one for reminding a teacher not to break the rules." She gave a rare smile as Holly rose.

"Thank you, Professor."

* * *

Daphne glared at Quirrell as he rambled about garden gnomes. The man's class and stutter had not improved since the year began, and his stupid voice was excruciating. Her hatred for the man was especially potent, as today was the last week of September, which meant the Slytherins and the Gryffindors were starting flying lessons. Hooch could only teach two groups of students at a time, apparently, which meant she wouldn't learn how to fly until the spring term. _And with the DADA curse, it's more than likely this idiot will be gone when they have their lessons with him. Life is so unfair._

"Now we wi-will move onto a new t-top-topic." Quirrell sputtered. "Who among y-you was r-raised in the muh-mug-muggle world?"

The glaze left her eyelids and she straightened her posture. Only three hands went into the air. Roger Malone's went into the air, as did Andy Something and Su Li. She followed suit and added her arm to the number.

"And how man-many of you can f-fight?" Malone's hand dropped. Her own seemed to hesitate, but she carefully pinned it to her side.

"Miss Li," Quirrell said. "What fo-forms of m-muggle fighting do you nuh-know?"

"I am profecient in Sanda, Taolu, and Taijiquan. I am also currently studying Juijutsu and Tessenjustsu." Daphne focused her head on the girl as she moved to the front of the classroom. I am prepared to provide demonstrations, but not explanations for my Taijiquan and Tessenjutsu techniques. Is that okay?"

"Of co-course," Quirrell assessed Li, his eyes alight with appreciation. "If you need anything trans-transfo-transfi-figured, I can p-provide it."

"A sparring dummy would be helpful." Quirrell nodded and cast his wand at his desk. The material jumped from the ground and spun into the shape of a mall mannequinn. "The cl-ass is yours."

Li spent the next hour of the class running through various techniques. She showed off punches, kicks, and full stance routines as she beat the dummy again and again. The last twenty minutes of her presentation was dedicated to Taijiquan and Tessenjutsu. She spent ten minutes on each of them, conjuring swords and Asian fans made of an odd, holographic light that shimmered as she danced around the dummy, hacking it to pieces repeatedly. At one point she threw the fan conjurations to slice at the dummy, and the momentum of the fans took them into the bookcase. They nearly hit Quirrell's iguana; vaporizing as she conjured a new pair to continue.

Li finished the presentation with a bow and Quirrell encouraged them to applaud. Daphne clapped with him and noticed many of her classmates were hesitant to join in. _I definitely shouldn't have kept my hand up. _Some of her classmates were staring at Li in fear, and fear could be all too damaging. For her part, Li appeared unconcerned as she took her seat.

_I should try to make an alliance with her as soon as I can._ She ignored Andy's walk to the front of the class, too wrapped up in the potential of things to come.

* * *

Hermione's distress at Hogwart's design had smoothed over by October. Her class schedule was not so disorderly now that she was used to it, and her travels through the castle helped build an understanding of the best routes to help her around it. Most of her time outside of class was spent in the library with Holly, a move that lost her a bit of respect among the Slytherins. She met each inquiry with the same answer, that she was cozying up to the Girl-Who-Lived with future goals in mind. Her explanation convinced many of her classmates to let it lie. Pansy and Tracey were not entirely convinced and saw fit to make fun of her as a 'traitor to Slytherin' Cress offered to eat their souls, but she didn't think it was prudent to have more bodies crop around her so soon after her first, especially when the bullying didn't bother her in the least.

Holly continued to train her in advanced magic, and they would occasionally visit Hagrid for tea. He had yet to make an edible rock cake, and the pumpkins next to his cabin had grown to the size of golf carts. Hagrid had explained that the pulp would be juiced in preparation for next year, with the rinds going to Flitwick for Halloween decorations. He almost always had a new photograph of Holly's parents to show, sometimes with stories attached. When Holly asked how he kept finding the pictures, Hagrid explained that he had written to her parents' school friends and relatives for them. It was a nice gesture, even though Holly couldn't keep most of the photographs for herself.

Holly's attempts to learn more about her parents from Professor Flitwick also paid off. The Charms teacher had beamed as he recounted tales of Holly's mother winning the Dueling Club's Tournament in her fifth and seventh years, and he procured a few photographs from his office to show her. Professor McGonagall was also helpful, and Holly had taken to meeting her for tea once a month.

The only person that did know her parents and refused to provide any information about them was Professor Snape. Her second attempt to talk with him about them was shut down, and Holly hadn't tried since.

On the morning of Halloween, Hermione double-checked her schedule and sighed. Defense Against the Dark Arts was scheduled for her fourth period. While the class itself improved tremendously, with Professor Quirrell teaching about some of the creatures from _Fantastic Beasts_, she still fell victim to fatigue by the end of every period. If it weren't for her place in the back of the classroom and the open window, she was certain that Cress would have thrown a tantrum by now.

"We could always take the day off," Cresswell rasped as she straightened her uniform in the mirror. "Pretend you're ill."

"I'd rather not. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs said that their last class with them was excellent."

"But I don't WANNNAA!" He whined.

"You'll just have to bear it." She told him. "Will you cloak up, please?"

Her expectations remained high as the day passed. She kept them contained until, finally, the clock tower rang for fourth period.

"This had better be worth it," Cress grumbled in her ear as she took her usual place in front of the window. Professor Quirrell waited until everyone was seated and stood at his desk. "Who here was—r-raised by Muggles?" he sputtered out.

Hermione frowned at the question and tentatively raised her hand. Holly's joined her, along with three of the Gryffindors.

"And which among you—k-knows how to fight? Muggle f-fighting, that is." The three Gryffindors' hands lowered.

"The G-girl-Who-Lived." Holly shrunk in her chair as everyone turned to her. "You would cer-certain—certain-ly k-know about dark def-def-defenses, yes? Could you c-come to the f-f-front of the class—please?"

"I'd rather go first, Professor," she cut across the resigned look on Holly's face. "I don't want the Girl-Who-Lived showing up my abilities."

"What are you doing?" Cress growled in her ear as she walked to the front.

"Shut up and bear it," she hissed through her teeth as she stepped into the spotlight.

"What f-figh-fighting styles do you k-know, Miss Grain—Miss Granger?"

"Well, I don't know any in particular sir," Hermione admitted after a moment of thought. "I only know what I know from watching street fights."

"Now, many of you—t-think Muggles are not dange—d-dangerous, correct?" said Professor Quirrell as he walked around his desk. "That is becau—that is b-b-because you have—haven't seen them in a f-fight." He turned to Hermione and conjured a mannequin that matched her height and build. "Miss Herm—mione," he stuttered. "Pretend this m-m-mannequin was attempt—attempting to mug you."

Hermione inclined her head. "Should I pretend he has a knife, Professor?"

"Certainly," he said. "Most of us—w-wizards c-could not image—imagin—imagine using a k-knife for something other than coo-cou-cooking." He turned back to Hermione and waved his wand at the mannequin. "We would use our—w-w-wands to fight. Muggles, who do not have—w-wands, must use alt—altern—alternatives." The mannequin's right hand morphed to a clenched fist, some of the material warping into a short blade.

The mannequin took an offensive position. "The knife will—col-collapse if it t-touches you," Professor Quirrell assured. "When you are—r-ready."

Hermione nodded and the mannequin took a swipe at her. "When someone attacks like this, keep your distance," she said calmly, stepping backward. "Stay out of range of the blade."

The mannequin lunged forward, its arm straightened to pierce rather than swipe. "If they stab directly, plant your heel to turn and grab their arm and neck," she completed her instructions, grabbing the mannequin's wrist.

"Drag them to the ground," she spun and pushed the dummy flat onto its face. The scraping of chairs sounded in the background, no doubt her classmates vying for a better view.

"Keep pressure on their neck and put a knee on their back so they don't wriggle free," Hermione instructed. "And twist their wrist to make them drop their knife, then kick it away." The dummy stopped wriggling and his knife hand popped off. It made a hollow noise as it bounced on the floor. "And that's that."

"Excellent, Miss—G-Granger," Quirrell sputtered. "Five points to—S-Slythe-Slytherin. Are there any other—tech-techne-techniques—you could show us?"

She pursed her lips. _If I say no, Holly will have to perform. If I stay up here, Cress might freak out. But as long as he stays invisible..._ "I can think of a few,"

Hermione spent the next forty minutes displaying the ins and outs of street fighting. She taught how the elbow was the most dangerous part of the human body, how to throw a punch properly, how to attack someone with a knife, and how the jaw was the best place to aim for. She taught a few more defensive sequences she could remember, and resorted to jumping from topic to topic as the haze perforated her mind.

"And that's about all I know," she panted as she finished an offensive attack sequence. She ignored the increase and Cress's growls and turned to Professor Quirrell. "May I use the lavatory, please?" She walked briskly into the hallway at Quirrell's nod and didn't stop until she was inside the girl's bathroom.

She cast the strongest locking charm she could muster on the door and sank against it, breathing deeply. _Thank God nobody else is in here_.

Cress decloaked above her, his low growl turning into a scream. "I can't believe you agreed to show off!" Cresswell roared as he bashed his fist into a sink. The porcelain cracked apart and fell to the floor. "Dragging me deep into that infernal classroom, wearing us out—how could you be so STUPID?!" He swiped thick claws into one of the stall doors. The metal shrieked at his touch, the sound metallic on her taste buds.

"It's not like I could have refused." She retorted, her mind still stuck in the energy-sapping brume. "Nobody else was prepared to run Quirrell's class for him."

"Your friend did!" Cresswell rounded on her, eyes blazing. "She probably knew everything you did; why didn't you let her have a go?!"

She shook her head. "She doesn't like to be the center of attention."

"I DON'T LIKE TO BREATHE POISON!" Cresswell chittered at her, rushing to the sinks and punching a mirror. The shards landed in the third sink from the destroyed one, which he tore from the wall and lobbed into the fifth stall from the left. It broke apart with dainty clinks, one chunk splashing from its new home in the toilet.

She focused on regulating her breathing as Cress ripped one of the stall doors off its hinges and began shredding it with piercing metallic screeches. _We're going to be here for a while, aren't we?_

* * *

Holly was worried. Hermione hadn't returned from the lavatory, and while she usually ducked out of DADA once per class, she had never stayed in the loo for the rest of the period. She thought about suggesting someone check on her, but she didn't want to call Quirrell's attention back to her after he abandoned the presentation of fighting techniques to lecture about how muggles were stupid and dangerous.

As the clocktower's bell reverberated through the castle, she took Hermione's bag with her and tried the nearest restroom. The door refused to move.

"Hermione?" she called. "Hermione, are you in there?"

The bathroom was silent.

She was at a loss on what to do until she spotted the school's caretaker. "Mister Filch!"

The old man lifted his scowl from his mopping. "What do you want?" he ground out. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"The door to the lavatory won't open, sir."

Filch raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Then you aren't getting in there, are you?" He grinned nastily and dipped his mop back into the bucket with a slop.

_Thanks a lot. Asshole. _She patted Hermione's bag and resolved to take it with her for the rest of the day. She'd either hand it over at dinner or turn it over to Snape if Hermione didn't show.

The Halloween Feast proceeded with more extravagance than she anticipated. A thousand live bats fluttered on the ceiling, switching rafters underneath the midnight blue sky. Flitwick had done a masterful job on the jack o' lanterns, each one carved with a frightening expression. They bobbed above the House tables, held aloft by levitation charms, and bumped against one another when too many bats moved at once. Candles flickered maliciously, sometimes snuffing out entirely, their tan colors changed to deep oranges, blacks, and purples. Even the ghosts were in the spirit of things, popping their heads from beneath tables and dousing unsuspecting students in their icy limbs to the laughter of tablemates.

The special performance before the Feast was one of macabre brilliance. The Headless Hunt stampeded through the Hall, up the walls, and across the tables. Riders tossed their heads into different students laps only to snatch them back up, and the Gryffindor ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, sighed unhappily from his place beside the upper years.

Scores of pumpkin dishes were provided, from bread to pies to chips and crisps. Dishes of cooked pumpkin seeds were intermingled with wizarding sweets, from Bertie Blotts Every Flavour Beans to Chocolate Frogs. Candied fruit slices were mixed with caramel apples, and this marked the first time Hogwarts served dessert alongside dinner.

She loaded her plate with a mix of sweets and actually food, mixing the two groups together as the desire struck. _I'm so glad I actually feel like eating tonight. _

As she wiped gravy from her lips, she searched the length of the Slytherin table for the third time, still unable to find Hermione. A glance at the staff table revealed that Snape was also absent from his usual chair. _I'll have to turn her bag in after dinner._

She had just added the butter and cheese to her baked potato when Quirrell dashed into the Hall, screaming bloody murder. "TROLL!"

The Hall fell silent as he repeated his warning. "TROLL! Tr-troll in the dugh-dugh-dungeons!" He sputtered out between ragged breaths.

"Th-thought you'd—ought to k-know," he stuttered out and crumpled to the ground.

Somebody screamed, and it was as if a bomb had gone off. Food and levity were forgotten for dropped cutlery, screaming, and the scraping sound of the benches. Even the older years abandoned the feast, with more than a few students dashing for the Great Hall doors.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Several purple firecrackers exploded from Dumbledore's wand. "Students, follow your prefects to your dorms!" He ordered. "Slytherin and Hufflepuff students will wait here with Professor Sprout and Hagrid." He waved his wand and transfigured one of the pumpkins into a crossbow that dropped into Hagrid's arms. "Madam Pince, contact the Ministry's Auror Department and inform them of the situation." The librarian disappeared into a side room at his words.

"The rest of you, with me." He led the charge out the doors, Flitwick and McGonagall hot on his heels.

"Gryffindors, follow us!" Gaia's magnified voice cut like a foghorn through the crowd as she pulled the two schoolbags over her head. "No funny business, we're heading straight for the tower!" She and the other Gryffindor prefects ordered a march from the Great Hall and headed for the Grand Staircase, the Ravenclaws behind them.

_Hermione doesn't know about the troll. __Quirrell said it was in the dungeons, though. She'll be fine._

_Not if the troll tried to chase Quirrell. If he moved too quickly, it would give up, but if he led it even part of the way..._

She lagged behind until she was in the middle of the throng and to the left. They were nearly at the Grand Stiarcase, but there was a passageway just before the entrance, tucked behind an armor's plinth.

She fell to the left of the students and slipped into the alcove. _Nobody saw, everything's fine. Nobody saw, everything's fine..._

After the sound of her fellow students faded, she activated her bangles. "Erucae."

She rocketed down the hallway and headed toward the DADA classroom.

* * *

Hermione's stomach growled. Cress stopped destroying things thirty minutes ago, and the repairs took the entire thirty minutes to complete. On top of that, he kept dragging her into an argument about his cloak up, and she was tired of circling the drain.

"I've told you," she said wearily as he drummed his fingers on one of the sinks. "We don't know how current times react to demons. If you are uncloaked all the time, the wizarding police might try and arrest me for dark magic." She aimed her wand at the shredded stall door. The pieces sprung back together with a grinding noise and floated back to the hinges.

"Hurgurlurgh!" Cress let out a high-pitched gurgle. "We don't _know_ that,"

_He is too alike to a child sometimes. _"We don't not know it, either. With all the fuss over Voldemort, they might have banned all dark magic by now. So until we have confirmation about it, you need to stay cloaked, okay?"

"Fine," _Thank you_. "But... show me to your friend. You spend so much time with her," he rushed to say as she opened her mouth. "This way, whenever you are alone with her, securely alone, I'll be able to decloak."

"Fine. Can we go eat dinner now?" She undid her locking charm on the door and stepped into the hall. She froze.

A lumbering, grey mass was hunched at the end of the hall, too long to fit under the ceiling. She slipped back inside the bathroom. "What was that?" she whispered.

"A troll," Cress murmured. "They're vicious, stupid beasts. If he saw us..."

"Shush," She put an ear to the door.

The troll's footfalls sounded like a snare drum as they grew closer. They stopped. She held her breath.

Instead of hearing slowly fading footsteps, she heard a snuffling noise, similar to a magnified dog's. _It's smelling us out. _

"Move," Cress mouthed. The troll roared, and a blow to the door sent her stumbling into the room.

"Move!" Cress shouted, shoving her into the second stall from the exit. The door crunched, and she ducked under the stall to see it was dented in two.

"RAWWRR!" The door shot away from the frame, the two halves thumping as they played like bowling balls past the row of sinks. Her breath caught in her throat as a lumbering thud resonated from the door, and she pulled her wand from her robes.

The troll started sniffing again. She crouched, her eyes trained on the gap between the stall and the ceiling as the troll's face came into view.

It's gormless mouth and too-big ears wiggled as it inhaled again. Its mind worked in slow confusion as she dropped flat against the tiles. Her arms inched towards the next stall, and the troll roared.

She slid into the next stall as an oversized hand grabbed at her legs. Cress roared as she got to her feet, his hands socking the troll in the head. "Cress, come on!"

He tore through the stall divider as the troll swung his club. The cudgel tore down the remaining dividers, nearly hitting Cress as he followed her charge from the lavatory.

"Hrrerrughrrr!" She looked over her shoulder to see Cress in the troll's meaty hand. Her footing slipped, her link dragging her back as it studied its prize.

Cress snarled as it's bloated arm turned him back in forth in the air, slinging her across the floor. She grabbed a rock and threw it blindly as a shoe pilaster rammed into her side.

"MRAWR!" She stopped moving on the floor and looked up to see Cress's mouth buried in one of the troll's fingers. The troll dropped Cress, staggering forward as a spurt of blood trickled down its head. _The rubble._

"Cress, duck!" He sank to the floor as she ran for him, flinching as the troll's meaty foot came down next to them. The beast lost his footing on the water and flailed as he smashed into the doorway wall. Some of the bricks crumbled out of place, clattering on the floor as she flattened against the back room of the bathroom.

"What should we do, Cress?" _No windows. No escape, not with it in front of us like that. _"Should we try to slip under its legs again?"

"You'll need to blind it first." He rasped as he cracked his knuckles. "I'll punch it; you blind it. Then we'll run under him."

"Okay." The troll rumbled as it rose, turning to face them. It roared again.

"Coruscent Rubrum," Red sparks shot out of her wand as the troll barged toward them. A few sparks nearly managed the distance, fizzling out as they reached the troll's mouth.

She fired the spell again as Cress swung a fist, knocking the troll in the head. It whimpered and lurched to the side, its inertia flowing into its club. The club smashed the remaining cubicles, the water in the toilets collecting on the floor._ Christ this thing is stupid._

The troll straightened and charged again, its club raised high. She dove to the opposite corner and the troll forgot how to stop, crashing into the wall. A puff of dust and grit enveloped from the stone latticework. "Run!" Cress roared at her.

"Hermione!"

* * *

Holly's bangles crackled against her skin as she flew through the hallways. "RAWWRR."

_Crap. _She rounded the corner and landed on the stonework. The door to the lavatory was missing, no doubt beaten down in the troll's haste to eat.

She ran through the doorway. "Hermione!"

"Holly?" Holly's eyes zeroed in on her friend, trapped in a corner with nothing but her wand. The troll raised its club and cracked the ceiling, a chunk of which tore free and slammed into the ground next to it.

"Erucae!" She rocketed forward. The troll turned to the new noises in surprise and received a kick in its fat nose. It yelped, eyes watering, and whipped its club into the wall. The wall lost; a hole breaking apart as she fired another rocketing charm from off the wall, launching at it for a punch in the ear. "Levitate yourself!"

Hermione did as she said as Holly blasted to her, Hermione's hand tight in hers. Her rings hummed as she jettisoned toward the exit, her skin prickling from her extended use.

"Drop down!" Hermione yelled. Holly glanced over her shoulder and saw that the troll had traded its club for the chunk of the ceiling. With a roar, it lobbed at them, the piece crumbling at the seams.

She pulled Hermione to the ground, the rubble sailing over their heads to smash into the doorway. It gave; bricks tumbling as the wall collapsed, taking more of the ceiling with it.

"Oh shit," She pulled herself to her feet as the troll turned to lift its club. "Fuck. Okay, I've got a plan."

"I've been trying to blind it," Hermione said as her levitation charm maxed out. "It hasn't been going well."

"That wouldn't work; its visions better in the dark and it'd just attack at random." The beast wrenched its club from the wall. Her mind sparked. "Here's the plan. Fire off any light spells you know so I can beat it over here. You'll have to walk through the cubicles to get around it. Once we've swapped sides we'll blow out the wall and jump. Got it?" Hermione nodded. "Good. Erucae!"

"Coruscent rubrum!" The calvary of sparks behind her, Holly kneed the troll in its ear and jumped toward the corner. It batted at her with its hands.

"Frigus ignus!" The tingling in her arms vanished, replaced with a chill as her freezing flames shot from her bangles to scorch the troll's upper body. Hermione fired off another set of sparks as the troll spun in place. It bellowed as it tried to pat out the flames. One of his arms connected, sending her across the room.

She grunted as she hit the wall and struggled to force her mouth to say the words she needed to as the ground drew closer.

"Cress, uncloak and CATCH HER!" Hermione shouted. _Cress? What's... _her thoughts felt like they were encased in fog. She braced herself for impact with the floor.

It didn't come.

Her vision was blurry. Something was holding her. Her first attempt at speech came out in a groan.

"What... what?" The arms around her moved away. Her back soaked in an instant. _That's a lot of blood._

"How bad s'blood?" She asked as she tried to sit up. The world didn't like that. The motion made her want to puke.

"You aren't," Hermione's voice replied. "It's water from the toilets." _Gross. _"Wingardium leviosa!" Metallic clanging and a roar cranked her headache to a ten. _Yep. I'm concussed._

"We need to move," a deep rasp said from her left. Holly's vision swam around the grey mass next to Hermione. It chittered and moved _too fast._

"Wait," she swallowed her dinner back down. "How much water s'there?" She moved her head and _did not like _the wave of vertigo.

"A fair bit," Holly shut her eyes at the sensory overload as rough punches sounded from the other side of the restroom. "Why?"

"Push it to the troll's feet," She opened her eyes and stumbled to a sink, one hand bracing her up. "Copia fulgur," Purple and white flashed behind her eyelids. The troll's roar beat against the blood flow in her brain. "Copia... fulgur."

"Repullunto!" Her legs shook. Bile welled in her throat again.

"Copia fulgur," she gasped as blow rippled through the floor.

"It's there!" Hermione shouted.

She extended one arm. Her eyes screamed at the sudden rush of color and shape as they bounced around, searching for where to target. _There._

_"_Ictus FULMINE!" Her fingers sizzled as the bolt discharged. Her hairs stood on end as the charge fled her body.

"RAUGHHRR!" The troll screamed in pain. He thundered to the floor. The force shook too much, and her feet slipped.

"Erucae!" Hermione yelled. Holly yelled as her head pulsed. A loud crunch sounded.

Silence.

Holly swayed. Her arms burned. A wind pushed on her skin. _Am I falling? _

Black poured into her vision. She never felt her body hit the ground.

* * *

Hermione stared at the troll as it gave a final twitch. When she cast the rocketing charm on its club, she didn't think it would impale itself through the beast's skull.

Cress hovered back to her. "It's gone," he growled. "Good job." His speech sounded fuzzy. It was as if she was underwater.

She turned to see Holly crumpled on the floor. "Holly?!"

She ran to her side and checked her pulse. The tiny beat confirmed Holly was alive.

"Cut the bags off," she ordered Cress as she rolled Holly onto her back. She pulled open her eyelid and found an empty white.

"Company," Cress rasped. She pulled her head toward the trample of feet.

"Good lord," a voice came from the other side of the collapsed space. "It's torn apart the room!"

She stumbled to the pile of rock. "Professor McGonagall!"

"Was that a student?" Professor Siniestra's voice, now. "Hello? Is someone under there?"

"Just behind it!" She shouted back. "Get help quickly; Holly's unconscious!"

"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall's voice cut through the barrage of 'Holly?' 'Holly _Potter?' _"What on earth are you doing in there?"

"Hurry, please, Holly's unconscious!" She repeated.

"Stand back, Miss Granger." Professor Flitwick ordered. She stepped away as the stonework pulled away from her, the noise like a river. Almost all of the professors were there, next to the Headmaster, Madam Pomfrey, and two wizards in navy uniforms.

"Move aside!" Pomfrey snapped as she rushed into the room. Hermione pointed to Holly and the matron nodded, casting a spell that levitated Holly from the ground. Their bags dangled beside Holly's arms. "Can you walk, Granger?"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

"Then come along." She obeyed, falling in line behind the matron as the other professors surveyed the damage. Someone gagged at the sight of the troll's grey matter leaking onto the floor.

"What happened?" Professor McGonagall said, her voice hushed.

"She can tell the story in the hospital wing," Madam Pomfrey said crossly.

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth only to shut it. "Filius, Silvanus, Sinistra; if you three can see to the damages." The Headmaster said as he joined the procession. "Officers, you are welcome to join us."

_O__fficers? _Hermione stared at the two uniformed wizards. The female separated to join them as the male stepped into the lavatory. _To examine the troll, probably. Thank God I repaired Cress's handiwork when I did._

A white light formed beside her, whirling in midair to manifest as a great bird. "Tell Pomona that the troll has been stopped. Have the house-elves move the feast to the common rooms." The Headmaster's eyes flicked to her. "And tell Severus to join us in the infirmary." The bird took flight, flapping its wings silently as it streamed through the hallway and turned the corner.

She glanced at the Headmaster and was met with a small smile. "Am I expelled?"

"No," he replied. "But we will need to hear what happened."

* * *

Madam Pomfrey levitated Holly onto a hospital bed. Her wand flashed in the air as Hermione sat on the opposite bed.

Two thin beams of cream-colored light emerged from the matron's wand and circled around Holly's form. A quill and parchment appeared in midair beside the mediwitch, and she tutted as the light disappeared into the quill.

"She has a minor concussion, nothing serious." Madam Pomfrey moved to a large cabinet and rummaged through it. She walked back to Holly, a potion in each hand, and tipped them down her friend's throat. "She is not going to make any statements."

The rest of the assemblage turned to her as Professor Snape came through the infirmary doors. "What has happened?"

"One of your students needs your support." Professor McGonagall replied, a curt edge to her tone as Madam Pomfrey preformed the same light spell on her.

"Nothing terrible at all," the matron said in surprise. "Miss Granger, how did you manage to avoid a single injury during your events?"

"I stayed away from it." She leaned around the mediwitch to look at Holly. "Is Holly going to be alright?"

"In a day or two, yes. Do you feel fatigued? Any aches, pains, anything?"

"I'm a little tired, I suppose." The matron retrieved a silvery-red phial and handed it to her. "Drink up."

Hermione did so. A surge of heat flooded her body, her aches vanishing completely. "What was that?"

"Pepper-up," Madam Pomfrey replied. "If you are willing to answer the officer's questions, you may." Hermione nodded.

The navy-clad woman pulled up a chair. "Miss Granger, is it?" She smiled. "I'm Alessa Garland, from the Ministry's Beast Divison. We'll need your statement of events, please. Speak slowly and clearly, and this dictaquill will record your story. Okay?"

Hermione nodded. "I was in the restroom ever since fourth period. Professor Quirrell's classroom doesn't sit well with me, so I asked to be excused."

"Did you get sick?" Garland asked.

She shook her head. _The quill has to hear it. _"No, but... as I was leaving, one of my classmates mocked me for how I always leave and I took my anger out on the restroom." She dipped her head as Professor McGonagall frowned at her. "I mended everything, but as I left I saw the troll in the hallway. I went back into the bathroom and it broke down the door."

"I hid in the stalls, and the troll destroyed most of the room as I crawled to the back corner. Holly showed up and kicked it in the ear after the troll ran into the wall."

"How did she reach that high?" Garland interrupted.

"She used rocketing charms." Professor McGonagall muttered something she couldn't make out. "I cast wingardium leviosa on myself and Holly flew us to the other side of the room. We were nearly out but the troll threw something at it to make it collapse."

"We were going to try and get the troll to that side of the room so we could go out the hole in the wall, but the troll hit Holly across the room when we tried. She shocked it with some sort of electricity spell and I cast a rocketing charm on its club. I didn't think the club would kill it, I was only trying to use the club to bust through all the bricks." _Do trolls count as people in the magical world? _She raised her head. "Then you all arrived."

Garland thanked her and put the dictaquill back into her robes. "Are we going to be arrested?"

The adults looked at her in shock. "What do you think you are going to be arrested for?" Garland said in a gentle tone.

"Murder," she said plainly. Professor McGonagall's mouth was open in shock, although Professor Snape's and the Headmaster's expressions had not changed. "Doesn't the troll's death count as murder?"

"Trolls aren't counted among sentient beings, hon." Garland bent down and pulled her into a hug. "Even if we did, your actions would count as self-defense." She straightened and turned to the Headmaster. "We'll need to figure out how the troll made it inside, Dumbledore. Who reported it to the Hall?"

"Professor Quirrell, if I'm not mistaken," replied the Headmaster. "I'm afraid he is quite unconscious at the moment, in his quarters. The shock from the troll and his run to warn us gave his heart a beating."

"Ah," Garland looked put out she couldn't question him right away. "Well, we still need to find how it got inside. May we move to your office? Campanella will want to check how it bypassed the wards." She left the infirmary. Dumbledore left with her.

"What you did was extremely foolish." Professor McGonagall said as the doors closed. "Ten points from Slytherin for skiving and destroying school property. Ten will leave Gryffindor for Potter's action rather than her inaction. Remind her to find a prefect the next time we are in such a situation." She exhaled through her nose. "Fifteen points to each of your Houses for saving a fellow student. You both ought to receive detentions, but as you both nearly died, I will let that experience be your punishment." She turned and stalked from the hospital wing.

"Rule number three, Miss Granger." Professor Snape said quietly. "I will permit an exemption for you this time, and this time alone. You were unwell when you went to the lavatory, and this is why you missed your fifth-period class and part of the Halloween Feast. The troll attacked you, and you and Miss Potter knocked it unconscious. This is the story the school will hear and know as the truth. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Professor Snape nodded to her and took his leave.

"You need to rest, the Pepper-up will work better if you sleep through it." Madam Pomfrey instructed. "Lay down and have a kip. I'll make sure you eat when you wake. Would you like any dreamless sleep?"

"No, thank you," Hermione replied as she pulled herself under the bedsheets. "I'll be fine."

Pomfrey nodded. "I'll be in my office if you need anything."

"Don't shut the curtains, please." The matron stopped and slid them back open. "Thank you."

Hermione awoke to the sound of conversation. Across from her bed, Madam Pomfrey was instructing Holly on keeping still. Holly lifted her arm and gave her a small wave.

"Didn't mean to wake you," Madam Pomfrey said as she crossed the aisle. "Hold still, now. Diagnosi." The caduceus-like spell circled her brow and returned to the same quill from earlier. Madam Pomfrey hummed. "Your core is still somewhat drained. How are you feeling?"

"Better than before," Hermione answered as she sat up. "A bit hungry, I suppose."

"I just sent a house-elf to gather some food for the pair of you. _Real _food, not those sweets Dumbledore insists on indulging you all on every year." A quiet pop sounded as a small creature that looked like a cross between a hairless cat and Professor Flitwick appeared beside Holly's bed. In its hands was a tray of sandwiches, some fruit, and a pair of water goblets. "You may sit with Miss Potter, if you like."

"Yes please," Hermione said as the creature laid the tray on Holly's bedside table.

"Before you go," Holly said to the elf. "Could you go to the Gryffindor dorm and bring me my snake? It's the brown and white striped one." The elf nodded and popped away. Hermione smiled at the matron's dirty look. "She hasn't eaten since breakfast," Holly supplied.

"Animals are not normally allowed in the infirmary," Madam Pomfrey sniffed. "I suppose I'll permit it, only to save the house-elf the trouble of taking it back."

Hermione sat on a visitor's chair beside Holly's bed as the elf returned. Mozu was aloft in midair, squirming and hissing up a storm.

The elf snapped its fingers and Mozu landed on Holly's bedspread. "Thanks," her friend said. The elf bowed and vanished.

Madam Pomfrey retired to her office as they ate, under the stipulation that they call if either of them felt sick. Hermione filled Holly in on what had happened as they ate through the platter, first telling the altered events Professor Snape mandated before explaining the actual sequence that had happened.

"But we didn't lose any points?" Holly asked as she polished off the last sandwich. 'Wow. I thought McGonagall was a lot stricter than that."

"She did threaten us with detention if we step out of line again." Hermione shrugged. "She also told me to remind you that 'you need to talk to prefects instead of running off on your own.'"

Holly rolled her eyes. "You might have been squashed by the time they organized anything. Besides, I know how to deal with trolls."

"How did you know that information about its eyes?"

"I've hunted one or two of them when I was in Europe," Holly replied. "Speaking of eyes; was I hallucinating about that demon you called 'Cress' or... what?"

"You know about demons?" she whispered. It felt like someone had doused her insides in ice water.

"Yep," Holly met her eyes. "I've run into a few of them, too. I'm not opposed to them if they aren't malicious, though." Holly flashed her crooked grin. "So, how long have you had him?"

"'He' has a name," Cress rasped above her. "Can I uncloak now?"

"Sure, Cress. Holly, this is Cress." She waited for Holly to react to him as he appeared.

Holly didn't even flinch. "Hello, Cress."

"My name is Cresswell," He ground out. "She likes her nickname for me."

"What happened to your hand, Cress?" Hermione asked him. The black claws on his left hand were wrapped in a makeshift bandage that looked suspiciously similar to her hospital sheets.

"I punched the troll, didn't I?" He grinned, his orange-red eyes gleaming. "It hurt."

"Nice to meet you, Cresswell." Holly raised her hand. Cress shook it. "What happened to your torso?"

Hermione smirked. She had asked the same thing when she first met Cress. His lack of legs was a bit of a sore spot for him, and though a tornado of blackened rib bones kept him aloft, he still refused to reveal how his lower half came to be. _Or, not-be, in this case._

"I'd rather not talk about it," he growled as he scratched the four tufts of black fur on his neck, the dark red sinews that kept his claws together flexing at his movements. His anchor grey skin tightened as he raised the arm even higher to pick at his horns, which seemed to be a cross between those of a mouflon and an ibex.

"How long have you been on our plane?" Holly asked.

"A bit under two years," he ground out. "Hermione summoned me through a terribly drawn portal. Her mix of glyphs bound me to her, and we've been together ever since."

"I told you I didn't know what I was doing," she reminded him. "I found a book in the public library and used the writing in it to summon him. I didn't know about magic then, I wasn't even sure it would have worked." She stared at Holly. "You don't think I'm a dark witch now, do you?"

"Light and dark are abstract concepts," Holly said as she stroked the top of Mozu's head. "So, no I don't. Why would I?"

"It's all ever Cress talks about," she said, a flood of relief spreading through her. "I didn't know if they were considered evil or not."

"Oh, they are," Holly said. "You shouldn't show him off to anyone. But I don't believe in the inherent quality of evil, or whatever. I'd have to call myself evil if a did that." Her eyes fell as she looked at Mozu. "I'm a Parselmouth. It means I can talk to snakes; that's how I'm so in touch with Mozu all the time."

Hermione tilted her head as Cress rumbled above her. "A descendant of Slytherin, then?"

"I don't know about that," Holly replied, her eyes low. "But... it's another one of those things people see as inherently evil."

Hermione took her hand. "Guess we're evil, together then." Holly laughed.

They spent the rest of the night swapping stories and ironing out the details of their cover story. It left Hermione tired the next morning and annoyed Pomfrey immensely, but it was worth it.

Near-death experiences were to be cherished.

* * *

**Boredguy's Grimoire:**

**Erucae: Rocket Charm; propels oneself or the targeted item forwards.**

**Coruscent Rubrum: Red Sparkles; shoots red sparks. The sparks have a limited distance of travel.**

**Frigus Ignis: Cold Fire; fireballs that radiate extreme cold rather than heat.**

**Copia Fulgur: Store Lightning; stores a positive electric charge for distribution.**

**Ictus Fulmine: Stike of Lightning; fires a lightning bolt. Latin for ictus 'I strike' and 'Fulmine', from 'fulminare'.**

**Diagnosi: Prognosis Spell; caster's wand must be linked to a quill for it to function properly. Based on Latin for 'Diagnose'.**


	8. Mundane Experiences

**Chapter Eight: Mundane Experiences**

* * *

****Reviewer Responses****

**Fast Frank: **Cresswell's claw was still evident in the stalls even after they were broken apart. Since HP trolls aren't clawed creatures, where did the gashes in the stalls come from? Rather than chance an investigation, Hermione lied and said she did them in an act of angry vandalism.

**Anime A55 Kicker: **I suppose? I've never watched Reborn; I'm not really into anime. I've watched two or three all the way through, but I'm not an anime superfan. My thoughts ran more along the lines of Bakugo from My Hero Academia, just without the explosions and the destruction of whatever Holly propels off of.

No, Holly was not sexually assaulted by Vernon or Dudley.

**If your broom develops an affinity for causing floods, call our toll-free number at 1-888-BAD-BROM.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

_Goddamn this is a waste, _Daphne thought. She should have listened to her gut and skipped.

Quirrell had yet to introduce an interesting lesson to his classroom. There were whispers of him teaching Muggle self-defense from the upper years the days after the Halloween Feast, but his collapse in the Great Hall did little to convince her the rumors were true.

"Now we will—m-move on to a new—topic," said Quirrell. "I gave a less—lesson on m-muggle self-d-defense last week. Who here has any such s-skills they can—dis-display?"

Daphne waited for her classmates. Su Li rose her hand, as did Roger Malone and Anthony Goldstein. She followed suit, carefully adding her arm to the number.

"Miss Li," Quirrell chose. "What meth-m-methods do you know?"

"Taijijian, Wushu, and Tessenjutsu,"

"Which would you—pre-prefer to show off?" Quirrell stuttered. His eye assessed Li almost as if he was cataloging her potential deadliness.

Li hesitated. "Wushu would be easiest," she replied slowly. "But showing that off would be hardest. Can I have some time to think it over?"

"We'll c-come back to you, then." Nodded Quirrell. "Miss Greengrass? Your hand was also r-r-raised, wasn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"What def-defenses—could you show us?"

_Good question,_ Daphne stood. "I suppose how to punch is a good place to start."

Quirrell transfigured his desk into a punching bag as she walked up beside it. "The most important thing about punching is how you do it. When you make a fist, never put your thumb under your fingers. It'll break it." She turned her wrist and wiggled her thumb. "Always keep it on the outside."

"And when you are throwing a punch, you always want to deal the most damage you can." She focused on the sandbag. "Plant your feet and shoot forwards. Don't make a big wind-up like this," She swung her torso in a wide arc. "It'll leave you open and your punch will be traced down. Instead, do this." She shot her fists forward in three short punches, aiming straight across from her.

"Make sure to keep your knuckles out." She curled her wrist and lightly pressed against her palm. "Not with the flats of your fingers." She gave the beanbag another two punches.

"When you aren't punching, you need to keep a guard up." She showcased a standard boxing guard. "When someone does throw a punch at you, you intercept with one arm and strike with the other. If your opponent is guarding, you aim below their face. A solid hit to the stomach will make them lower their facial guard." Her fists thumped on the sandbag. "And when going for the face, always aim for the jaw or the nose."

"Why the nose?" asked Kevin Entwhistle.

Daphne smirked. "It's one of the most painful things you can break. If someone can take a broken nose and keeps fighting, you are in way over your head." Memories of Beck's win against Quentin clicked through her mind. Thank god Rook had finally gotten the message to leave Beck alone after that scrap.

She shoved her memories back into her mental vault. "Any more questions?"

"What if they've got a knife?" Lisa Turpin whispered. "Wouldn't it be easier to run from them?"

"Not always," Daphne cut across Quirrell's open mouth. "If someone's got a knife, you either take it from them or you give them what they want. Here, if someone comes up I'll show you."

"That's alright—Daphne," the professor stuttered. "I can provide a duh-dummy partner for you." He waved his hand at the sandbag and it morphed into a white mannequin. A knife sprouted from its right fist as it took a fighting stance.

The mannequin shot at her. One of her classmates squealed as she backed away from the first slash and sidestepped the second. She dropped down and kicked the dummy in the side of its kneecap and it crumpled, landing on its knife-hand. "That alone can make them drop the knife," Daphne said nonchalantly as the dummy got back to its feet. "You kick away or pick it up, and then you run."

"Or," she stepped forward as the mannequin thrust forwards. Her elbow clapped the dummy in the nose and she grabbed its arm as it staggered. "Do that, then twist their wrist to make them drop the knife and kick it away." Her knee shot up and landed between the dummy's legs. "That will usually give you enough time to escape."

Daphne felt Quirrell's eye giving her the same systemic observation he had given to Li. She decided against showing her knife-fighting skills and stuck to basic street-fighting techniques. Never fight fair, aim for the throat when you can, how to flip an opponent onto their back, how to escape a chokehold and how to give one, and how to fake a punch, throw a backhanded punch, and how to throw an uppercut effectively. Most of her classmates were looking at her with a tinge of fear, even Hannah and Susan. _I definitely shouldn't have shown off my knife-wielding skills._

Li's eyes hadn't shown fear when she assessed her; in fact, they showed intrigue. After Daphne had sat down, Li rose and gave a demonstration in Tessenjutsu using a form of odd, holographic fans. She refused to provide how to cast such a spell, and instead performed the magic without her wands or her words.

The gleaming fan-blades seemed to be some form of magic that differed from the kind taught at Hogwarts: while every spell they had learned so far went through a rigorous set of steps, Li's blades seemed to be made of pure intent and willpower rather than a chant or ritual.

Li spent a few minutes hacking apart the various dummies that Quirrell conjured. She sliced and speared and hacked through them as if they were made of paper; her movements an eloquent and graceful dance. At one point she even threw the blades, their formation sinking into a jet of energy that nearly hit Quirrell's iguana before it fizzled out and scorched a bookcase. Without any delay, she created new ones and resumed her frenzy.

She finished with a bow and her fans collapsed. The room was silent as Daphne and Quirrell applauded her.

_Mental note: ally with Li as soon as possible. _Daphne watched the witch as she sat back down. The girl's raw power and her potential connections to China made her a valuable piece. _I can't even say my interest is from her roots; hell, those are the side dish. Her skill and precision… the knowledge of magic she must have to wordlessly create weapons is unbelievable._

Daphne ignored Quirrell's ramblings for the rest of the period, too focused to notice the eyes that watched her for the rest of the class.

* * *

Hermione rifled through her copy of _Magical Draughts and Potions_ and let out a huffy growl. She knew there wasn't a potion like the one she was after in her textbook, but she figured she'd try anyway. Cress was rubbing off on her.

"I understand that you are frustrated," Hermione moved her eyes from her parchment and looked across the table at Lily's timid figure. "But can you please stop sighing? Please?"

"Sorry, Lily," she leaned back into her chair. "I didn't mean to distract you."

"It's fine," the blonde's pigtails flounced as she shook her head. "It's okay, really." Her eyes worried at Hermione's face. "What are you looking for? Maybe I can help."

Hermione gave a slight smile. "Just trying to find something on allergies. Garlic makes me feel nauseous, and I've been trying to find something that will help me survive Professor Quirrell's classroom."

Of course, this was a lie. An allergy to garlic was a convenient excuse as to why Hermione constantly left his class. In reality, it was to give her and Cress a breath of fresh air for twenty minutes before they returned. It didn't do much, but it prevented her magic to exhaust herself as severely.

Lily scrunched up her face in thought. "Have you tried Pepper-Up already?"

"Madam Pomfrey refuses to provide me them more than twice a month," said Hermione. The medi-witch could not understand why Hermione desired the potion so often. Her lie about her garlic allergy did not invoke sympathy in the matron, although she was asked to be moved to a roomier corner so that two windows might provide a cross breeze. While Quirrell had agreed to her re-location and even moved one of his trusses for her, she still suffered a constitution sap and left her weary.

At least Cresswell enjoyed his newfound freedom. He had struck up a conversation with the gargoyles from time to time and was always more pleasant after classes spent talking to them.

"She says that drinking it too often puts me at risk of developing mandrake poisoning." Hermione shrugged, ignoring Lily's frightened shudder. "As much as I hate to admit that she's right, she is."

Lily sat in silence as Hermione resumed her notes. _No anti-nausea potion in year one book. Try the library? Maybe one of the older years?_

"Is that why you left class early Halloween?"

Hermione froze, her quill hovering over a dot-less 'i'. She rose her head up and kept her head from leaning to the side as she wanted.

"I-I-I'm sorry!" Lily squeaked out, terror bleeding on her face. "I didn't mean anything by it! I didn't mean to cross a line! I swear!" She shrunk in on herself, frantically muttering.

"Lily," said Hermione. The girl let out a sound like 'meep'. Above her, Cresswell tried to contain his laughter.

Hermione flashed a warm smile. "I didn't mean to scare you, Lily. I was just surprised by your question, that's all." Her kind demeanor caused Lily's face to relax in relief. Hermione went back to her notes. "I thought Professor Snape already told everyone what happened?"

"Well he did," Lily grew from her scared demeanor until she was sitting straight again. "But there were rumors that the troll was killed rather than just knocked out."

Hermione laughed musically. "Really? Who started them?" _I'll dismiss them and entertain them as a fantasy. I'll need to catch Holly at some point and let her in on any details I weave in now._

"Er… I only overheard it from Katie Bell," Hermione frowned to herself. _Isn't that a Gryffindor?_

"She started it?"

"I don't think so," Lily shook her head. "Lots of rumors are made all the time. This one only has weight behind it because of how long it took Professor Flitwick to return to his House." Lily looked at the floor. "People say it took him so long because he had to scrub up all the troll's blood." She glanced at Hermione and became very interested in a scuff on the floor.

_That's it? I'm almost insulted. _"It probably took him so long because he helped the Aurors move the troll from the castle. Since he was a duelist in his twenties, he was likely the most agile in case the troll woke up."

"So, you didn't… kill it?" Lily whispered.

Hermione smiled and made sure her grin wasn't too wide. Too wide grins meant false happiness. "Of course not," she declared. "Troll's skin is too thick for me to… hack it apart with my knife, or something. All that happened was it smashing the loo before Holly showed up and hit it with its club." Hermione's brown eyes watched Lily carefully as she talked. Her dormmate's eyelids had widened at the notion of her ripping apart a troll, but they shrank back upon her cover story.

"Recounting your 'adventure'?" She rolled her eyes as Pansy and Tracey walked up beside the chairs. "I wouldn't be one to brag about breaking the rules, Granger."

"Funny enough, I don't recall breaking any," Hermione replied. "I felt ill, went to the restroom, puked for a bit, the troll attacked me, and Holly and I knocked it out. The professors showed up, we had to spend the night in the hospital wing, and there was a news report." She leaned over her work. The ball was in Pansy's court.

"I'm sure," Pansy snorted. "Like a maniac mudblood such as yourself could resist killing anything that crossed your path."

Tracey smirked at Lily's gasp. "Who knows what poor soul will get wrapped up in your next adventure's spiral." Her eyes gleamed as she leaned in Lily's ear. "I'd steer clear from her if I were you,"

Lily's rabbit eyes focused on Hermione again. She stood from a chair as Cresswell shook out his injured fingers.

Neither of the four talked as Hermione stared at the two hags in front of her. "Trying to make us flinch, Granger?" Pansy sneered, but notes of fear laced the edges of her bravado. "Go ahead then. Show off your mudblood fighting skills, go on." Her hand wavered as she reached for her wand.

"I don't need to," said Hermione as she stepped forward. "As of this moment, you are in my path. I am not killing you. I haven't raised a hand against you." She smiled politely as Cresswell lolled his head in exasperation that he still wasn't allowed to eat Pansy's soul. "That means I've proven you wrong about me being a homicidal maniac. I'll even let you off the hook for calling me a mudblood because I _know_," she lowered her voice to one of toxic sugar. "I _know_ that you'll hate losing this battle more than I'd enjoy threatening you." She smiled. "So, I think I'll just wait right here until you leave."

Pansy scoffed in a coarse attempt to salvage control of the battlefield. "It doesn't matter what you can prove. All that matters is what people believe."

"True," Hermione bobbed her head. "But I'd avoid telling rumors in the future Pansy. The next time you do, it might be your tongue that gets cut on the lies." Now she gave a too-wide smile.

Tracey broke first and tugged on Pansy's arm. "Come on," she muttered. "We'll prove she's insane another day." She gave an impotent glare as she pulled the pug-nosed girl into their room.

Hermione rolled her eyes and resumed her parchment-work. "What…" stammered Lily. "What just happened?"

Hermione shrugged. "They tried to bait me into attacking Pansy by calling me 'mudblood'." She snorted. "If they think that I'm that easily manipulated, they must have taken Dulmineer's Draught." She tilted her head at Lily. "They haven't been bullying you, have they?"

"Bullying me?" Lily looked like she hadn't been bullied in her life until now. "They were bullying me?"

"Well… not bullying, I suppose." Hermione laid her quill down beside her work. "They were trying to get you to doubt my stability. If they could turn you against me, you might suck up to them so they'd 'keep you safe from the deranged Granger'." The brunette laughed. "Since I didn't rise to their play, you didn't become scared of me. And now you are still against them."

"Against them?" Lily looked like someone had told her house was to be bombed. "I don't want to go against them! I don't want to go against anyone!" She looked at the floor again. "I just want to get on with all of you."

Hermione painted a smile of regret on her lips. "You can try all you want. I have a feeling that Pansy is one of those 'with me or against me' types, though." Lily blinked at her. "If you don't agree to join her clique, she'll see you as an enemy."

"Why?" Lily's lip trembled. The poor girl looked like she was about to burst into tears. "I don't… I'm not trying to be…"

"Hey," Hermione stood walked over to the blonde witch, kneeling to pull her into a hug. "You'll be alright, okay? Some people are just mean people. They manipulate and force others to obey them so they can keep on top." She pulled out of the hug and stared into Lily's deep blue eyes. "If they bug you, just ignore them. Give them the idea of messing with me, and I'll hit 'em back for both of us." She smiled at the girl's watery nod, the one on her face warm and the one in her head victorious. _This is why you never leave an unchecked piece so close to your enemies. They're all too easily converted._

Hermione gave Lily a final squeeze on the arm and loaded her bag to search the library. She still had a potion to find.

* * *

Holly shuffled through Lee Jordan's deck and frowned. "Where did you find this?"

Lee Jordan smiled. "That one's not for trading," he paused. "Unless you're willing to part with Baba Yaga…"

"Nothing doing," Holly snorted at his cheeky tone. "St. George is not on the same level as Baba Yaga and you know it."

"Just offering," the boy flicked his dreadlocks out of his hair. "You know, a lot of people are surprised by you."

Her green eyes flicked to him and she said nothing. "Not in a bad way," Lee Jordan said as he shuffled her deck through a second time. "Just in a… an odd way. Most people expected you to be some entitled brat."

"Glad I disappointed," Holly deadpanned. "How would you feel for about exchanging Plato for Rasputin?"

"Sure," the two swapped cards and returned each other's decks. "Pleasure doing business!" said Lee as he headed for the boy's tower.

Holly followed suit to her room. Lavender and Parvati were off doing who knew what, and Keila and Fay had joined some older students in a hike around the lake.

She flopped onto her bad and rubbed her face. After she had entered the portrait the next afternoon, her House had swarmed her for information about the troll fight.

Pushed in front of the fireplace, Holly had seen no option available except telling the 'official' story: she had snuck off in concern for Hermione, the troll attacked them, she knocked it out with its club and the teachers had saved them

Reactions were mixed. The Weasley twins had dubbed her 'The Troll-slayer' and quickly whipped together an accompanying song, while Gaia gave her a stern talk-down before patting her shoulder. Ever the gossip hounds, Lavender and Parvati had questioned her for forty minutes before letting her get to bed.

Of course, the real story couldn't get out. Hermione told her what Snape was putting forward as the real story so that she could corroborate it. It was the third secret the two shared.

Her mind wandered to the first one that was told between them. Cresswell was an interesting character. He was whiny, constantly bored, and only truly enjoyed himself when he was destroying things. Rather similar to Mozu.

Having never met a demon before, Holly found herself quite interested in him. She had only heard of demons once, when she had been in Italy. Turin was infamous for its stories of demons, although most were attributed to Masonic symbols and New Age Occult religions.

Of course, there was always a grain of truth. The statue of Pizzaro was the center of numerous ley lines, suggesting that its location in the magic triangles was no accident. The historical texts she had examined in the Pinetti Library (magical Italy's equivalent to muggle's Royal Library) held very little information on demons, and most were on exorcising them rather than examinations. How Hermione had managed to find a proper evocation ritual in a public muggle library was beyond explanation.

"Hey Mozu," Holly murmured to her familiar as she slithered onto her chest. "What's up?"

"I'm bored," said her snake. "I've been stuck in this tower all week. Let's go someplace new already."

Holly stroked Mozu's head. "You can come with me to the Quidditch match tomorrow."

"Fine," Mozu flicked her tongue in impatience. "But we have to stay for the whole match."

Holly rolled her eyes at the reptile's demands. "You'll be bored."

"I don't care about entertainment," Mozu snorted. "I just some fresh air. The stink of you humans is unbearable."

"Would you prefer a walk now?"

Mozu thought about it. "We could visit the giant friend of yours."

Holly snorted. "You just want to beg some meat off him."

"Please?"

Holly relented. At least she'd have more rock cakes to bribe Peeves with.

The rough wood stung Holly's knuckles as she rapped on the door to his hut. Fang's barks cut loudly across the grounds as Hagrid tried to wrestle him away from the front door. "Back, Fang," said Hagrid as he turned his cheery face onto her. "Holly! Not polite to be droppin' by withou' askin' first!"

"Sorry," she shrugged as she sat down in his visitor's chair. "I wanted to see you."

"Tha's alright," Hagrid shrugged as he let go of Fang. The boarhound immediately moved to rest his face on Holly's knee, drooling onto her uniform. "Would you care fer a cuppa hot chocolate?"

A teacup of hot chocolate and a plate of rock cakes later had the two sitting around Hagrid's table. As always, he pulled some pheasant from the ceiling and set it on a plate for Mozu. The snake dug in while Hagrid began to speak.

"I haven't gotten to lecture yeh yet abou' the troll," he half-glared down at her. "Righ' dangerous tha' was, Holly."

"I was trying to help Hermione."

"I know why yeh did it," Hagrid raised his hands. "Tha's why I'm not going ter lay into yeh abou' it. You were helping a friend, an' you weren't hurt, that's all that matters." He chuckled as Mozu beseeched him for another cut of pheasant. "But don't go adventurin' off alone again, yeh hear? I'd hate fer you to cross paths with—" he stopped his sentence short.

"With what?" Holly asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Well, the stuff in the forest," Hagrid said carefully, averting his eyes. "The centaurs don't take too kindly to trespassers. An' there's a whole buncha other beasties in there to boot." His mane shook as he nodded. "So don't be doin' tha'." He finished lamely.

_Hagrid, you are a terrible liar. _"With the three-headed dog on the third floor?"

Hagrid spit out his chocolate. "How do you know about Fluffy?" he demanded between coughs.

Holly walked over and thumped him on the back. "That cerberus is named Fluffy?"

"Well—yeah," Hagrid admitted. "He's mine—I bought him off a Greek chappie las' year—and Dumbledore offered to put him up till I could get him somewhere better." He eyed her. "Yeh haven't been pokin' around the corridor on yer own, have yeh?"

"Not me. I overheard some of the older years talking about it though."

"I'll need to talk with Dumbledore," Hagrid muttered. "I told him that he needed ter put somethin' stronger on the door, but he said it'd be alright." He glowered at Holly. "Don't you be goin' down there fer yerself, yeh listenin'? Yeh already missed gettin' hurt once this year, an' I'm tellin' yeh not to push yer luck."

"I promise Hagrid. I won't go exploring the third-floor corridor for myself."

"Good," Hagrid sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'd never forgiven mehself if Fluffy got ahold o' yeh."

The rest of her visit was the usual fare—Hagrid asked about her classes and her friends. He sat and listened while she told him stories about her time on the continent and how she had learned magic over the years. He only interrupted once, when they were talking about her time in Sweden.

"Yeh went on an adventure ter a _giant colony_?!" Hagrid shouted in disbelief.

"I just tagged along," Holly shrugged. "They were as polite as they could be, and the trade went well." Hagrid just shook his head.

"We never shoulda left yeh there," he said quietly after she paused to drain her teacup. "Dumbledore said it would be the best place fer yeh, an' I believed him." He looked at her through wet tears. "I never thought yer aunt an' uncle would treat yeh so bad yeh had to run away!"

Holly sat dumbfounded as Hagrid openly bawled, tears falling into his beard. "You and Professor Dumbledore left me with them?" A tendril of cold wound through her gut.

"We shouldna never done it," Hagrid sniffled. "Holly—really, we thought they would take care o' yeh. Yer mum had never said anythin' against her sister, an' we all thought they were just distant. We didn't know they'd neglect yeh." He burst into another round of sobs.

Holly sat as the groundskeeper cried. On one hand, he was the man who had put her with her relatives for eight long, awful years. On the other, his remorse and regret at learning that she had been hurt there—even if he didn't know the whole story—was clearly evident.

"It's okay Hagrid," Holly decided. She walked around the table to hug the large man around the middle as his sobs slowed. "You couldn't have known."

Hagrid sniffled and pulled her into a bear hug. "Yeh aren't ever goin' ter be near 'em again." He said firmly. "I'll take you on as an apprentice before they try an' send you back there."

_They send me back?_ Holly kept silent, turning Hagrid's words over in her mind as he blew his nose. _Who would be stupid enough to try and force me to go back? Not only would I refuse, but the Dursley's wouldn't appreciate me being "dumped on them" again._

She resolved to think about it another time. The who was irrelevant after all; she was _never_ going back.

* * *

The morning of the Quidditch match rose with an icy snap. November had turned Hogwarts' grass to frost, its windowpanes to ice, and the surrounding mountains were dipped in grey. The cold was barred entry to the castle by heating charms, and students kept warm by conjuring small flames and bundling themselves in their winter cloaks.

Holly cast a warming charm on her shoulders as Mozu slithered aboard. The pair sat at breakfast and ate silently as the two teams began a round of instigation. Slytherin's captain, Marcus something, shouted insults through a set of teeth that looked like piano keys. Gryffindor's captain, Oliver Wood, shot back with his insults of his own as Holly sprinkled cinnamon on her oatmeal.

"You might as well throw in the towel, Wood." Marcus sneered as he eyed his lion counterpart. "You'd never be able to find a Seeker as good as Charlie."

"We only needed to find one better than yours," replied the lion. "And may I say so, but I believe we did."

"Boys," Professor McGonagall told the pair. "Stop with the wily-waving and eat. There is plenty of time for you to disparage each other during the game." The boys sneered and returned to their seats.

An hour and a half later, students marched towards the pitch in colors of red and green. Most of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were supporting Gryffindor, as the Quidditch tournament fed points into the House Counters. Slytherin had won for six years straight, and it was high time they were dethroned.

She took a seat beside Keila and Fay. The game would be more enjoyable by Hermione's side, but Slytherin's united front had forced her to sit with her own.

The teams took their positions. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and threw the Quaffle into the air. The game was on.

* * *

Daphne memorized the roll call as the players entered the field. Aside from Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, none of the Gryffindors had blood relations that could be profitable. _Of course, Angelina might not even be the right Johnson._

The Slytherin team wasn't much better. While most were easily recognized Pureblood families, few were of any notoriety. The one interesting player was Alya Hope, and that was for nothing more she had come up empty on any families with that last name.

Then the match started.

Draco had explained Quidditch to her over the summer, and the game was understandable. Three Chasers worked the red ball around the field, two Beaters kept the semi-sentient black bludgers from hitting their teammates, the Keeper played goalie, and the Seeker would look for a small golden ball that hovered wherever on the field. Once a Seeker caught it, the game was won.

The Slytherin captain nearly scored a goal, but his shot was blocked by the lion's captain. She ignored the commentary being run by Jordan and watched as the two teams grappled to gain the ball. Angelina Johnson soared from the mess, Quaffle in hand, and put it through the Slytherin goalpost with ease.

Daphne kept watching the Ravenclaw portion of the stands. Hannah had dug up that Su Li wasn't a fan of Quidditch from some source, and with a little luck, the Chinese witch would depart the game early.

Hannah nudged her elbow and Daphne joined in the cheer over another goal to Gryffindor. "Thanks," she mouthed as she turned her eyes back towards the Chinese witch.

"Chaser Johnson has the Quaffle, pass to Bell, pass to—no, just a fake to make Pucey move aside—real pass to Spinnet, when did she move up the field? Spinnet catches it, shot blocked by Morris Stanbie. Slytherin now in possession, Hope leads off—dive around a bludger sent by Weasley, I think it was George—Hope shoots and scores, damn I had my fingers crossed she'd miss…"

"Jordan!" McGonagall's sharp voice caught over the speaker. "Comment without bias or we'll take you off!"

"Yes, Professor, only joking… Johnson in possession, flying fast—corkscrew spin around Derrick, very nice—she's running close to a collision with Flint, chicken anyone? She stops and tosses the Quaffle up, Flint passes her… Quaffle caught by Bell… Bell scores!"

Daphne gave another half-hearted cheer and tuned back out of the commentary. Li blew her bangs in apparent boredom as the match continued.

"Pucey in possession… Bell tries to rush him, hang on, she's stopped by a bludger… Pucey's nearly to the goalposts… was that the Snitch?!"

Daphne focused on the game and watched the miniature golden orb flit about Pucey's ear. Pucey rolled from the surely unsettling feeling and lost the Quaffle to Alicia as the two Seekers (Terrence Higgs and Morris Stanbie) sped towards it. They were neck in neck as Stanbie stretched forward… the match couldn't end that quickly…

The crowd roared as Marcus rammed Stanbie. The force caused his hand to waver and he shoved into Higgs, sending both Seekers off course. Cries of 'foul' rang throughout as Madam Hooch descended and laid into Flint; her voice magnified with a Sonorus Charm. "Free shot for Gryffindor!" came the verdict.

Daphne felt relief drain through her. If the match had ended then, she might not be able to accost Li a she planned. Her eyes turned back to the witch and she started.

Li's eyes were focused on her. From across the pitch, they both stared at each other until Li jerked her head towards the teacher's box and rose.

Daphne stood. "Where are you going?" Hannah asked her.

"Away," said the raven-hair. "I'll catch up with you after the Quidditch match."

She walked down the stairwell to the lower floor. The Quidditch pitch was designed much like a basketball stadium, with stairs branching down at three entrances and a circular hallway running around the field. The hallway sat underneath the stands, with rows of seats lined above where she now stood.

Daphne stepped lightly and made her way to the teacher's box. Her footsteps reverberated in the silent hallway. They mingled with another pair as she approached.

Li matched her speed and the two met just out of view, should any teachers head downstairs. An emotionless mask covered Li's face. "Why were you watching me?"

Her tone was impeccably neutral. "You are intriguing," said Daphne. _Let's play as equals. _"Your combat expertise astounds me. As does your magical prowess; I've never seen a conjuration like the fans you made in DADA before."

"And that's all you want to ask me about?" Li's contempt was palpable even if she kept it concealed. "You want to know the magic secrets that were passed to me through blood and sweat?"

_Don't ask her about her magic. Noted. _"Not at all," Daphne smiled softly. "I want to ask you about our families forming an alliance."

Li's cognac orbs blinked. "And why would I bring your family into mine?"

"Before my parents' death, they had a successful shipping business with magical China. Your family undoubtedly has connections to Chinese business in some format, yes? Old business partners and associates, family friends, acquaintances, anything," Daphne watched Li's face dip ever so slightly left. _She's engaged… she's considering it…_

She buried the smile she wanted to display. "Any contact that might be of worth would be a huge help in restoring my family's business."

"And what would my family gain from our deal?"

"I presume monetary profit would be enough to start bargaining with?"

Li refused to nod, but her eyes shone with possibilities. "Perhaps," she answered. "Perhaps."

Silence hovered between the two of them as the sounds of students began to echo throughout the hall. Li's brown orbs glanced to the left. "It seems our time is up." She focused on Daphne. "I'll send you correspondence once I have discussed this with my family."

"Thank you," replied Daphne as Li walked towards the stairwell down to avoid the masses. Daphne waited just inside the professor's stairwell until the crowds hit and slid into the throng. The seed was planted.

_And now we wait._


	9. Yule Tidings

**Chapter Nine: Yule Tidings**

* * *

****Reviewer responses****

**Kpop1392as: **I'm glad you're enjoying it! All the little things are moments that I think help define the characters more and more; I'm glad you enjoy the "quiet moments".

**Vukk: **I'm going with Richard St. John Harris as my basis for Dumbledore because I prefer his calm, grandfatherly demeanor to Michael Gambon's stern, more authoritative one. The stern demeanor may appear; it may not; but the calm, false-senile persona is my favorite.

I think the fierceness of Gambon blots out most of book Dumbledore's persona and takes a lot away from the idea that Dumbledore was the 'one man' Voldemort feared in the sense that Dumbledore was intimidating through skill and power rather than demeanor. And while I am basing my character off of Harris, it isn't going to be Harris's portrayal alone that is in the story.

**Cold street poles: Now gluten-free!**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Holly yawned as she stretched, the castle's magic enveloping her with warmth despite the snow on the sill. _Thank god for these heaters._

Hogwarts' icy chill had given way to a season of permafrost. Several feet of snow blanketed the castle, with new layers added nightly. The lake had frozen solid (Hermione informed her that the giant squid and other lake dwellers were alive and well) and many owls refused to battle the frigid skies.

The castle itself had sprung into action to defend against the deep freeze. Warmth radiated from every corridor, and torch-bearing suits of armor would perform small firestorms around students who asked politely. Even Professor Snape's dungeons had become less drafty thanks to warmth charms placed on the benches and the bottom of the tables.

When the cold weather rolled in, Holly often found shelter in magical areas or any abandoned buildings she could find. Her warmth charms and the fires she would build were helpful, but they couldn't hold a candle to the pure, refreshing heat of Hogwarts.

She pulled on her uniform and watched Mozu slither deeper under her covers in an attempt to stay asleep. Giggling, she stepped lightly to the other side of the room. Her watch declared the time to be five in the morning, and she had no desire to be the one to wake Lavender. The blonde could be very aggressive when she didn't enjoy enough beauty sleep.

She wandered the corridors in a winding tailspin down to the kitchens. No doubt the House-elves would be awake and could provide something for an early breakfast.

Holly rounded a left turn that put her three halls away from the kitchens and stopped short. A girl with dark hair in a choppy cut stood gazing into an empty portrait of a redwood forest.

The girl turned and blinked her blue eyes. "Hello,"

"Hey," said Holly. She hesitated during the tick of silence. "I didn't think anyone else would be awake yet,"

"Most people aren't," said the girl. Her eyebrow flickered, but she stilled it before it could rise into a full cocked stance. "You're Holly Potter, aren't you?"

Holly nodded. The girl mirrored her action, albeit in a smaller movement. "Daphne Greengrass."

"Nice to meet you." _Greengrass… Greengrass… why is that so familiar? _

She blinked away from the floor at the sound of Daphne's voice. "Sorry?"

"I said I'm sorry about your parents," Daphne repeated. The girl's stone had peeled away from her face to reveal a wistful sadness. "They died as heroes,"

Holly stared at her as she tried to ignore the plunge her stomach had taken at the mention of her family. "Thank you," she replied. "I know they did,"

Daphne stepped forwards, unbothered by her curled eyebrow. "I didn't mean to drag up unpleasant memories." Holly felt the dark-haired girl's hand on her shoulder. "I miss mine, too." The badger whispered before the pressure on her shoulder vanished.

As Daphne's steps echoed around the corner, Holly stood still. _You're not the only one who lost,_ she reminded herself as her legs moved on their own accord. It seemed like that list never ended somedays, with the Bones, McKinnons, Greengrasses…

_Greengrass._ The name echoed in her head in Hermione's voice. _That's_ where she had heard the name, Hermione had complained about not achieving the top spot in class ranks because of the Hufflepuff.

_Sometimes she cares too much about grades_. Holly pulled herself from her thoughts and realized that her body had reached the door to the kitchens. She tickled the pear on the bowl of fruit, and it ballooned from the wall, stretching and molding itself into a round doorknob.

Inside, Holly smiled at the homely warmth and sights of the room. Brass and copper pots were unsteadily stacked in rows alongside the walls, a long oven lay bricked into the right side of the room, with sinks opposite it. The smell of fresh bread mingled through the air along above the long preparatory tables that stood before her.

Dozens of house-elves busied themselves about the room. Some pulled food from the larder, others stirred great pots over the fireplaces. Some cut bread, some washed fruit, and some set the prepared meals in tureens and dishes laid out further towards the other end of the hall, the arrangement of which was an almost perfect replica for the furniture in the Great Hall.

As soon as she was noticed, a house-elf scuttled up to her. "Hellos, miss. How can wes be helping you?" the elf chirped.

"I had hoped I could nip an early breakfast please," Holly told the elf. At her words, a half-dozen of the eager to serve elves abandoned their duties and rushed over a basket of bread, a bowl of oatmeal, and a tray of bananas.

"Er… thank you," Holly told the assembled elves. "But some toast and an orange will do me fine." The elves smiled and returned the unwanted food to its position in the room, and the first elf disappeared with a pop and returned holding her selected fruit. "Thank you,"

"It bes no problem, miss." The house-elf bowed. "Take care!"

Holly let herself out of the kitchens and walked back through the hallway. _I __**really**__ wish the wizarding world knew about peanut butter._

* * *

Daphne ignored the urge to check over her shoulder as she navigated through the silent halls. Her footsteps echoed softly as she took a left through a secret passageway Hannah had told her about. A snoozing dwarf in multicolored robes and an ear-trumpet sputtered at her approach; she ignored the painting's rambles as he began to whine about being awoken so early in the morning.

The rough wooden door of the Owlery creaked open as she walked inside. About a hundred owls roosted within the stone structure. Some were already awake, hopping about their perches or stretching their wings. Others were already asleep, dozing peacefully.

"Whooo-eeeeooo-ooooooo," At her whistle, Caliban perked up from his perch and fluttered down to meet her. He landed on her arm, careful not to cut her arm with his talons. "Good boy," Daphne stroked his feathers as Caliban shook out his wings. "Do you have any return postage for me?"

Caliban rolled his eyes and took wing back to his perch. Gingerly, he bent down and lifted a letter from its place in his nest.

Daphne lightly pulled the postage from his beak after he returned to her. "Thank you." She scratched behind his head, enticing a hoot from him before he took wing back to his roost. He'd enjoy the early bedtime for certain.

Her pace quickened on her way back through Hogwarts. She had no inclination to be on the receiving end of another surprise passerby, and her persona she was cultivating could not risk being exposed to the masses at breakfast.

"Please open," the keyhole gave its customary wink as the door pushed itself away from the wall. Daphne slipped through the doorway and crept along the common area back to her dormitory.

The curtain rings clinked as they were slid shut. Although heavy, the curtains could not prevent the yellow of the morning light that seeped through the ochre fabric, providing her plenty of light to see by.

She removed the switchblade she kept stowed within her boot out and slid it open with a snickt. Carefully, she slid the blade under the parchment's groove and cut through the wax seal. Flipping her blade closed, she laid it on the bed beside her and unfolded the letter.

_Daphne,_

_Narcissa's making me practice cursive by writing to you like this. I told her my writing's fine, but she said, 'not for a lady it isn't.'_

_Your display in DADA would have been fun to see, I remember when you taught me the ins and outs about street fighting (I'm still practicing whenever Narcissa isn't breathing down my neck). I'm glad you listened during the troll incident instead of following your stupid 'prove yourself worthy' plan. What was it you always said to me? Something along the lines of always avoiding unneeded danger?_

_Keep acing your classes… although if you fucked up one exam so I could surpass you once I'm in my first year, that'd be nice. The Malfoys are still being good to me, although Lucius has become a bit on edge recently. I think some new bill for the Wizengamot has him worried about Pureblood rights._

_We'll be at platform 9¾ ten minutes before the train will arrive. See you tomorrow._

_Astoria_

Daphne rolled her eyes at her words thrown back in her face. True, she had briefly considered sneaking away from the rest of her dormmates to try and capture the troll, but she dismissed the notion after probing her prefect in the hallways. Magically resistant hide, enormous strength and stature, and a higher than average troll intellect to have made it into the castle? No thank you.

Of course, her theory about personal glory had been proven correct by Potter and Granger's tangle with the beast. The duo had been placed on a pedestal by the class, and only the most suspicious of the Lions and Snakes failed to honor the heroes in full. Exaggerations of the pair's adventure had spread like wildfire, firmly cementing the pair in the gossip column for much of the foreseeable future.

She flopped back against her bedspread and huffed. Although her acumen had grown since she had arrived at Hogwarts, it was nowhere near as the amount of power the rumors had done to aid the pair.

_Especially when future minds will remember the rumors and not the truth._ The dark-haired girl breathed deeply as she glared at a particularly offending spot on her ceiling. She had yet to make an impression on the student body as a whole, a fact that infuriated her to no end. Sure, she had time to invoke her name upon the minds of future underclassmen, but the upperclassmen were the ones who would be powerful sooner. It was their attention that she needed to capture, not the awe of those who would respect her from their position.

She had promised herself that she would show them. And yet here she sat, a term wasted. Not even her year mates respected her; aside from polite conversations about her family, the majority of her class members saw her as another student, an equal.

It was insulting. Not even Su Li had responded to her offer of aid. The girl had blown her off at almost every turn. She made sure to avoid the Asian girl herself anyways, crawling to ask if she had an answer would be admitting desperation and weakness. The Greengrass family didn't _do_ weakness.

At least she was almost to break. Hopefully Narcissa would take it easy on her given her coursework, but the logical side of her brain knew she wouldn't.

Daphne sighed. A girl could dream.

* * *

The snow drifted softly on the procession of children as students headed through the grounds. The white powder had laid over Hogwarts like a warm blanket, smothering the green in gleaming alabaster.

Daphne stepped through the snowdrifts behind Hannah and Susan as they followed the groundskeeper to the carriages. The enormous size of the student body left her wondering if anyone had decided to stay at the castle over the break. A glance among her classmates proved the two heroes had chosen not to leave.

She watched the snow swirl around the grey outline of the castle as more students filed into carriages. "No more than six to a cart!" The enormous man bellowed.

Daphne winced. "Damn does his voice carry," she muttered. She glanced ahead to see the next carriage pull through and paused at the sight before her.

A gaunt black mare larger than any horse she had ever seen stood before her, pawing at the ground. The beast's leathery wings were bent alongside its flank, and its reptilian face twitched to reveal a milky orb that lacked any sort of pupil. Its black skin tightened around its joints as it snorted, flicking its tail and disregarding her.

"What are you?" Daphne murmured to herself as she studied the creature.

"It's a thestral," whispered Susan. "Don't worry, it's as tame as a kitten." She climbed up into the carriage and took the window seat.

Daphne took the seat opposite her. "What is a thestral?"

"A breed of winged horse," the strawberry blonde responded. "They have a reputation of harbingers, but that's only because they can only be seen by those who've seen someone die."

Daphne remained quiet as Hannah took the seat across from her. "Who died?"

"Nothing," Susan responded. "Simply talking about the thestrals."

"Is that what makes the carriages to pull themselves?" The brunette asked as she adjusted her hair. "I always wondered how they moved on their own."

The carriage began to rock as their ride to the train platform began. Daphne ignored the sensation as she stared out the window. The image of Carolyn's breast leaking red onto Nikki as she begged her best friend to stay with them; of Carolyn's mouth coughing more and more gushes as she struggled to breathe and stay and fight it, only for her to shiver and still as she left.

"Daphne?" She blinked and focused back from the window onto her dormmates. Concern was evident on the duo's faces. "Are you okay?" Susan asked her.

"Fine," she lied. "Just… lost in thought." At the duo's glance, her face morphed into a glare, daring them to ask about it.

Hannah nodded. "Say, Susan… what was it you were saying earlier about McGonagall's last lecture? What part of it didn't you understand?" The blonde gave a glance between Daphne and Hannah and answered. "The third part of the theory. When she started talking about…"

Hannah's eyes nodded as she began to explain what Susan hadn't understood to her. Daphne ignored it and focused on the rush of white that fell in streaks outside. She didn't need their prying eyes and curious ears to sour her mood for the whole day. She didn't need their projections of painful backstory to lace her skin, no matter how true it was.

The snowflakes gleamed as the carriage trundled on.

* * *

Daphne waited for the train's lurches to subside before she rose from her seat. Susan and Hannah had been gracious enough to leave her alone in her compartment, and Pansy had yet to make an appearance.

Once they were moving steadily, she rose and locked her compartment shut. She stalked the length of the car to the corridor connector and took a deep breath in the frigid air.

After a moment's hesitation, she whipped her wand from her pocket and fired at the passing tree, slicing branches off with her cutting charm. She snarled at the lack of destruction and fired again, and again.

After several minutes, she leaned against the connector railing, her anger spent for the moment.

As she composed herself, her phone vibrated for the first time since that summer. Hogwarts and Malfoy Manor, in attempts to discourage anything muggle, prevented her phone from working properly. At least the ambient magic of the school had kept her battery charged.

Daphne flipped the phone open and activated the voicemail. 3 new messages.

"Daphne! Where the hell are you?!" She nearly dropped her phone at how loud Nikki was talking. "We need you now! The Tiger's is—" Her words were drowned out by the ring of a siren and the sound of screams. "Get down here! NOW!"

The wind lashed through Daphne's hair as she played the second message. "Daphne…" her name was choked out in a sob. "Daphne, please… please help, there… there's been a fire…" Nikki trailed off and struggled to hold in great, heaving breaths. "Call me soon, okay?"

The last message. "Hey, Daphne. Look, I know that you are probably busy with your special… school stuff, but… if you can call me whenever you manage to hear this, that'd be great." There was a pause as Nikki sighed. "Bye."

Daphne stood still as the wind whistled around her.

"Shit."

She clicked her cell back open and opened up her contacts list. Did two numbers qualify as a list?

_Doesn't matter, _she decided as the dial tone hummed. And hummed again. And a third time.

Then someone picked up. "Daph?" her mentor's voice asked quietly.

"Hey, Nikki."

* * *

"They're running late," muttered Lucius.

"Hush, dear." Narcissa chided as Astoria vibrated with excitement from beside her. A steely look had the younger Greengrass behaving again, but who knew how long that would be successful?

She glanced over the mass of families that were squeezed onto the platform. Mercifully, there was less filth taking up space than there was on September first, but there were still plenty of people eagerly awaiting the arrival of the train. "It isn't even ten til."

Lucius snapped his pocket watch shut with a metallic click. "It should be here already," he bit out under his breath. "The journey shouldn't take a whole nine hours to complete." Before he could gripe anymore, the nostalgic sound of the engine's whistle cut across the air.

_Thank Merlin._ The train pulled into the station with an agonizing lack of speed. Steam flooded the station and masked parents as everyone began moving in an attempt to greet their children the quickest. Soon, she, Astoria, and Lucius were left to the fringes as the herd pulled ahead.

"Can I go find her?" Astoria begged; her eyes wide in her version of the puppy eyes Draco often wore when he was younger. "Please?"

Narcissa glanced at Lucius who was busy attempting to look over the crowd for their son and resigned. She nodded and Astoria smiled, stepping quickly into the fog.

"Dobby," Lucius's voice was followed with a sharp pop. "Collect Draco and Daphne's belongings from the train and return them to our household."

"Yes, sir," Dobby nodded vigorously and vanished with another pop.

"Idiotic beast."

Narcissa resisted the urge to scold him again. She already had once; a second time would be pushing the limit. Treating house-elves with basic politeness was an idea lost on many a pureblooded wizard, and yet still he expected perfect service from the creature. While being nice to such disturbing creatures was a tad above the lessons her mother had ingrained in her, basic politeness was not near so far from reach as Lucius acted.

"You think it is wise to let her run off alone?" Her husband's quiet voice echoed behind her.

Narcissa turned to face him. "There is no harm in letting a sister see her own blood."

The signature frown on Lucius's face expressed what he thought of that idea. "And what if one of Dumbledore's dogs were to sink their claws into her?" He asked in his silky voice; the one he only let escape when he believed an argument already over. "She might hear some… dreadful lies about our family and attempt to remove herself from it."

"That would only be a blessing," she turned her attention back to watch the screen covering the masses from view. "Her place with us is not meant to last forever, Lucius. And any ideas about our family will have surely reached her ears by now. She's clearly ignored them, lest she would not have returned to our manor."

"I will not lose this opportunity," Lucius snarled. "She is our charge, and I will not see her gallivanting around, speaking nonsense that she cannot comprehend. Her bloodline will not be compromised!"

Narcissa bit her tongue and stared straight ahead. "We are not going to mold her to fit your plans, Lucius." She reminded him in a clipped voice. "Our duty is to restore the Greengrass family legacy, not absorb it into our own."

"Our duty is to ensure that she is raised on the proper principles of our society." Lucius's voice narrowed to a piercing whisper. "We cannot continue this farce and keep pretending that the way she thinks is acceptable for a lady of a Noble House! And if she must remain with our family long into the future to keep the message alive, all the better!"

Narcissa willed her lips to stay silent. He wouldn't listen to her regardless, so why continue to drive the wedge between them?

From the pale gloom, her charges emerged. Draco greeted his father first before turning to her and gave a halfhearted recognition of her purpose. "Mother,"

She stilled her urge to hug him as Daphne appeared, Astoria clutching her arm as if she was afraid her sister would disappear again. "Our things..." Daphne began.

"Dobby has already taken care of it," Lucius breezed over her. "Come along, Draco." The two men of the Malfoy family took point on the walk to the floo. Narcissa slowly filled the void behind them, the two sisters behind her. Astoria's position was exceedingly similar to how she would act when with her sister…

Narcissa Malfoy stepped into the emerald flames, turned, and vanished.

* * *

The mass exodus of students left Hogwarts nearly empty, but no less bountiful. Holly found the lack of fellow students a relief. She didn't have to put as much effort into avoiding annoying students. The only exception was Ron Weasley, whose parents had decided to go on holiday and visit one of his many brothers.

While he was certainly a prat, his brothers managed to provide plenty of excitement. The twins instigated a snowball fight against her and Hermione when they were out on a walk. Ron and Percy soon joined in a boys-vs-girls battle which pit the Weasley clan against her, Hermione, Gaia, and Penelope Clearwater, another prefect. As expected, the boys lost miserably.

The halls of Hogwarts had been renovated to celebrate Yule with an explosive ferocity. Fir trees were planted outside the doors to the Great Hall and covered in shimmering gold and silver ornaments. Wreaths and fir garlands were nestled in windows and along every corridor, with red bows and pinecones placed between their ties. Poinsettia plants took the place of the usual flower vases in the great hall (courtesy of Professor Sprout), and several were tucked into alcoves and placed in the arms of statues throughout the castle.

Suits of armor were covered with candles that shone in waxy reds and oranges. Several had their breastplates changed to shades of icy blue or were topped with never-melting snow to match the lesser trees who had been relocated onto the landings of the moving staircase hall. Mistletoe and holly leaves dangled on red threads in numerous doorways, and gleaming icicles hung from the doorways that abstained from the plants.

Christmas morning saw Holly wake late in the day, after the best sleep she had in ages. The empty room had provided her the free reign she needed to sleep outside of her bed, curled up against two of the night-tables. She shook off her exhaustion and peeled Mozu from her neck only to discover a small pile of presents sat at the foot of her bed.

The first was a case of twenty chocolate frogs, from none other than Hermione. "Merry Christmas… don't eat them all at once!" read the attached card.

Naturally, she opened all of the boxes immediately, ignoring the army of chocolate now hopping about her room. Many of the cards were repeats, but she did manage to pull in six new cards: St. Cyprian of Antioch, Zhang Jiao, Nostradamus, William Wynn Westcott, Wassily Kandinsky, and Mary the Jewess.

The second gift was from Hagrid, who had provided a clumsily knitted sweater. She smiled at the shades of brown and white before turning to the note.

_Knitted it myself. That's real Dahu wool used there. Hope it keeps you warm enough for a visit!_

_-Hagrid_

Holly smiled and turned to the last gift in her pile. The blue and white wrapping paper contained something light, and soft…

She peeled the paper apart to see a silvery gray pile of fabric fall onto the ground at her feet. Her heart stopped. It was an invisibility cloak.

She had heard about them when she mentored with a magician in Italy. Invisibility cloaks were rare enough on their own, but often nothing more than a simple cloak charmed to reflect the light around it. But this material… it had to be a true invisibility cloak.

Holly considered the present that lay at her feet as she managed to nab one of the chocolate frogs. She chewed slowly as she thought over who might have gifted her this treasure.

Warily, she reached down and picked the cloak from the floor. It felt like cold glass and shimmered like a riverbed as she lifted it into the air.

Her attention snagged on a scrap of paper as it floated to the ground. She bent over and snatched it out of the air.

_Your father left this in my possession before he died._

_It is time it was returned to you._

_Use it well._

_A very Merry Christmas to you_

Holly stared at the note. This priceless artifact was her father's?

"Holly?" She started as she felt Mozu slither onto her shoulders. Her cheeks were wet, and the curly handwriting on the parchment soaked with round spots.

"I'm alright," she assured her familiar. "I… I need a moment."

Mozu wrapped herself around her chest and arms in a reptile's imitation of a hug, anyway.

Holly sat there for a long time.

* * *

The candles in the Great Hall had swapped colors again, their normal white changed to deep green, with red flames flickering above the wicks. A projection of the Aurora Borealis had taken residence along the ceiling, the lights slowly weaving a trail across the expanse.

Aside from Hermione and the Weasleys, precious few students remained. A few older students in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, a pair of second-year Slytherin twins, and Gaia rounded the total number of seat-warmers to sixteen, not counting any of the staff members.

"You're certain it was an invisibility cloak," Hermione asked her for the umpteenth time as she cut apart her strip of bacon.

"For the last time, yes," Holly rolled her eyes. "I know what they look like. It's the genuine article."

"Hmm," the brunette took a bite of her toast as Holly speared a piece of sausage. "Maybe Hagrid sent it?"

Holly shook her head. "He sent me the sweater."

"I wondered where you got that," the Slytherin sighed. "Who else do you think might have sent it then?"

Holly glanced around the Hall. None of the other students could have possibly known her father.

Her eyes flicked to the front of the hall. That left the teachers.

"Maybe it was Professor McGonagall or Professor Flitwick." She scraped the last bit of egg off her plate. "They knew my parents when they were younger."

Her friend had gone quiet. "Do you think it was… Professor Snape?" She asked, tilting her head. "If he knew your mother, he had to have known your father, too."

Holly turned to look at the absent seat where the Potions Master usually sat. She turned back to Hermione. "I'm not going to ask him about it."

"But—"

"He already cuts me off whenever I mention my mum," Holly cut across her. "I'm not going to dredge my dad up and poke even more memories."

Hermione pursed her lips and nodded. "Well, did you want to visit Hagrid then?"

"Might as well pass the time."

* * *

The snow flurries had died down by the afternoon. Their absence made the path to Hagrid's cabin much more pleasant despite the heavy winds. Cresswell complained about the cold, only to have Hermione tell him to shut up.

Hagrid opened the door for them after the first knock. "Blimey, you too! Come on up an' outta tha' cold, now!"

His door shut with a heavy thunk. "How's abou' some hot chocolate?" asked Hagrid as he began to busy himself with the kettle. "How are you two doin' today then?"

"Fine," Holly answered as Hermione gazed around the room. Even more quilts had been added to Hagrid's bed, and two or three owls roosted in the rafters above it. Fang was curled up on a spare hide of what looked to be an elk, snoring away. "They're school owls," Hagrid smiled as he passed over two teacups. "Poor devils were frozen stiff. I'm helpin' get 'em up to snuff befur they have teh go out flyin' again."

After he had poured them each a teacupful, he set the kettle back onto the fire with a new mix brewing. "How'd yeh like your Christmas present, Holly?"

"Very much, although I feel bad for not having a gift for you."

"Don't yeh be worryin' abou' tha'," He waved her apology off. "I've been meanin' ter get yeh somethin' nice anyways; since I was supposed to escort yeh 'round Diagon on yer birthday." He took a sip from his tankard. "If you'd like, I can make yeh a sweater too, Hermione."

"Oh, you don't have to," she replied. Holly heard the faintest of snickers echo from Cresswell's cloaked form above her. "I'm sure you have more important things to do."

"Well, not really," chuckled Hagrid. "Apart from tryin' to talk with Dumbledore an' Nicholas Flamel abou'… nevermind." He caught himself.

"Apart from what?" Hermione asked, her head tilting to the left.

"Talkin' with Dumbledore abou' movin' Fluffy somewhere safer." Hagrid amended. "Somewhere safer fer you students, tha' is." He squinted down at the two of them, his eyes shifting from her to Hermione to her again. "Yeh two didn't just come down here ter weasel information outta me, did yeh?"

"Of course not, Hagrid," Holly assured him. "I wanted to thank you for the present." She walked around the table and hugged him. "Merry Christmas,"

"Well yeh didn't have to come here just teh say tha'." He mumbled as Hermione rose and hugged him from the other side. "Go on yeh scoundrels. Make sure those Weasley twins don't forget who beat 'em in snowballs."

Hermione nodded. "Thanks for the hot chocolate," she said as they left.

Once outside, the duo shared glances and headed back up to the castle. "Nicholas Flamel is involved with all this?" clarified Hermione as the started up the mobile staircases. "Who on Earth is that?"

"I don't remember," Holly scrunched up her face. "I've seen the name before somwehere… hang on…" She drummed her fingers on the banister. "That's it! Come on!" She broke into a run up the stairs, headed for Gryffindor Tower.

Holly burst through the door to her dormitory, waking Mozu up from her nap. Her familiar hissed in irritation as she sprung for her box of chocolate frogs where she had left the pile of cards.

"Holly Potter!" Hermione demanded as she shut the door behind her. "Tell me you did not eat all of the frogs I bought you before breakfast!" Above her, Cresswell uncloaked himself and moved to examine the animate sweets that roamed the room.

"No, they're all hopping around the room somewhere," the redhead clarified. She picked up the deck of cards and shuffled through them. "Here, look! It's Nicholas Flamel!"

Hermione took the card from her and flipped it over. "Nicholas Flamel, the only known alchemist to have successfully created the Philosopher's Stone. Flamel is six hundred sixty-five and enjoys a quiet life in La Ciotat, France. His favorite pastime is viewing the opera." She looked at Holly. "So, he is a powerful alchemist then?"

"The most powerful one, Hermione!" Holly corrected. "No other alchemist has ever made the Philosopher's Stone. It has to be one of the most valuable magical items in existence!"

Hermione's head tilted slowly left. "Remember what Hagrid said, about that Gringotts article? 'There isn't any safer place in the country to store something except Hogwarts.'" She paused. "That means…"

"The Philosopher's Stone is what's been hidden in the third-floor corridor," Holly finished.

"Yaaaaaaawn," Cresswell rumbled. Holly turned to look at him along with Hermione. "Yes, yes, Flamel was a genius for his time. Can we move along now?"

"You know about Nicholas Flamel?" Hermione demanded.

Cresswell rolled his eyes. "Everyone has heard of the first alchemist to succeed without _our_ help. Most researchers give up and rely on us to provide them their accomplishments— Faust comes to mind, in particular— but he managed to create his prize all by himself." The demon shrugged. "He's well-known to all of us."

Holly felt Hermione glance at her. "Then, what does the Philosopher's Stone do?" The brunette asked.

"Turns any metal to gold, can be struck to create an infinitely burning flame, can be used to make a homunculus, can make any crystal into precious stones, can revive dead plants, and can be milked to create the Elixir of Life." Cresswell ticked the six uses off on his figures. "That's the other reason he's infamous among us demons. He's been dodging his due for a long, long time."

Hermione tilted her head, brow furrowed. "If it's such a powerful artifact, why would its safety be entrusted behind a simple locked door?" Her eyes flitted back and forth as if they were watching a tennis match. "It's too simple."

"Maybe the protections become harder to beat as you go along." Holly shrugged. That seemed like something Dumbledore would think of doing.

"Maybe…" Hermione murmured, lost in thought. As she opened her mouth to speak again, the school clock chimed seven o'clock. Thoughts on the subject would have to wait until after dinner.

* * *

The Yule Feast provided to the remaining students and staff of Hogwarts was a sight to behold. Fat, golden turkeys and roasted pheasant lay beside boiled potatoes and roasted potatoes while tureens of buttered peas, buttered wild onions, and buttered carrots provided splashes of color against the deep purple tablecloth. There was an overflowing breadbasket for each person, roasted chipolatas and meat pies, bowls of oranges, granny smith apples, and boats of vivid pink cranberry sauce and thick, steaming gravy.

Stacks of wizard crackers littered the tables between sets of plates, and when pulled, they exploded with cannon's blast and a sudden appearance of multicolored smoke. The first one Holly pulled with Hermione unleashed a bellhop's hat and a live chinchilla. Mozu wanted to eat the furry creature on the spot, but Holly refused her the luxury and instead had Professor McGonagall transfigure a cage for it.

By the end of the night, Holly had collected seven seashells, several marbles containing multicolored mushrooms, a small bolo tie, a corkscrew, a model figure of a chimera charmed to walk around and roar, two luminous red balloons that could never be popped, and three blue china teacups. Hermione was equally laden with six brown mice (which she had promptly turned over to Mozu as a special Christmas dinner), a pouch of Greek drachmas, a set of wizard chess pieces, a black top hat, a miniature grandfather clock, several sprigs of clover, a maraca, and a broken silver bell with a red ribbon.

Before the end of the feast, flaming Christmas puddings were delivered to each person. One of the older Ravenclaws nearly lost a tooth after she bit down on the silver sickle in her slice, but Madam Pomfrey was quick to summon the potion equivalent of aspirin and relieve her pain.

Back inside Gryffindor Tower, Holly sighed with contentment as she emptied her pockets and released her float charm off of the chinchilla's tank. Curling up in her makeshift corner, Mozu around her neck, she reached for her blanket and felt her hand brush against the cool fabric of her invisibility cloak. Her father's invisibility cloak.

She paused. The cloak was large enough for her to fit completely under it. And the entire castle was undoubtedly asleep, full of places to explore without being caught outside after curfew.

A smile grew across her face. _Use it well._

The Fat Lady snored in her frame as Holly gently nudged her canvas open. She slipped through the tiny crack without any trouble. The portrait door swung itself shut behind her.

"Where are we going?" her familiar asked her.

Where could she go? The library crossed her mind first, but knowing Madame Pince, it would surely be locked up tighter than Al Capone's deep freezer. The Owlery wasn't a restricted area, so there was nothing to explore. The third-floor corridor was an option… but she had promised Hagrid, and she never broke her promises.

She paused on the fourth landing of the marble stairwell. Her bangles hummed as she activated them, alight with a beautiful blue. "Ducere In."

The spell sprung forth, a small blue wisp of smoke that floated up the staircase towards the fifth floor. Holly followed it, stepping softly to avoid attention from Filch or Mrs. Norris.

The spell turned through the halls. It swept past tapestries and Yule decorations, shining brighter the closer they grew to their destination. Through a secret passageway behind a suit of armor, down the hall, around the corner. Holly crept behind it, on guard for any sign of Filch.

The wisp dissipated in front of the fourth door down. Holly cautiously approached it and stopped outside the door. She reached her arm out from under the cloak and turned the handle.

The unused classroom felt hollow without the usual arrangement of desks and chairs. Several textbooks titled "Aural Magicks" were stacked in unsteady rows throughout the room. In the center of the labyrinth stood a flat shape with a white sheet hung overtop it.

Holly pulled her cloak off of her head as she stepped through the maze of desks and books. The constant rights and lefts had her turning every which way, but when she glanced at her goal, she found herself no closer to it.

Eyes narrowed; Holly started moving again. No matter which paths she took, she never grew any closer to the mysterious sheet.

"Can you stop walking us in circles?" griped Mozu. "You're making me dizzy."

"The floor must be charmed to prevent anyone from reaching the center of the room," Holly muttered. Tapping her fingers on her chin, she turned to the 'wall' blocking her path. "Wingardium Leviosa."

The desks, chairs, and spellbooks spun along to the hum of her bangles as they constructed an overhead bridge. The redhead smiled and carefully picked her way across the detritus until she stood in front of the shape.

Her hand grasped the sheet and she tugged. The cover fell, revealing an ornate mirror that stood tall and imposing in the dark room. Its rectangular frame was solid gold, with curved oaken edges and an engraved pattern that looked like root systems.

"What's so interesting about a mirror?" Holly murmured. None of the surrounding items were reflected in it, but aside from the feature, it was exceptionally ordinary. It would have fit in better in an antique store instead of a school building.

She stepped in front of the glass and started. Behind her, thirty pairs of eyes on shadowy figures blinked open.

The lion spun around so fast that Mozu lost her balance. "What was that for?" The snake grumbled.

"Didn't you see them?"

"See who?"

She turned back to the mirror. The eyes opened again, and the shadows collected into images of vaguely humanoid shape. The one nearest her stepped forward to reveal itself to be a young woman with deep red hair and emerald eyes.

She didn't dare breathe.

The image of her mother smiled at her across the mirror; a sad, keening smile as the second figure took form. Her father smiled behind his glasses, his unruly black hair floating as if it had been dunked in water.

"Holly," Mozu hissed. "Holly! There's no one else here… the mirror only shows us."

She stared at the image of her parents as more members of her family appeared. An old man and woman who she guessed to be her grandfather and grandmother, a man with knobby kneecaps, more of those sparkling green eyes than she could count.

"No." She whispered. "This isn't real. This is wrong. You're all dead. You're dead!"

The words were real, her conviction was real, but she could not seem to tear herself from the mirror's glass.

"Holly!" Mozu's voice sounded like it was further away than her familiar truly was. Mozu's scaly skin rubbed against her cheeks as the reptile wound her length around her eyes.

Immediately her mind cleared. Holly gasped as dull aches flared from inside her brain. "Mozu, don't you dare move." She commanded. "You're going to have to guide me back across the bridge, but don't let me look. Don't move until we're back in the hallway."

"I don't plan to," came her familiar's curt reply. "Step forward. Left foot first, not the right. Next foot… you found the right spot. Two more paces."

Once they had reached the hallway, Holly shoved the door to the classroom shut. Mozu's grip loosened, her bodice returning to its customary position on her shoulders now that she wasn't in any danger.

_It's like it implanted desire in my brain. It latched onto my wish for my parents and expanded it… What the hell was that thing?" _Holly shook her head and tickled Mozu under her neck. "Thanks Mozu," she muttered. "I don't know how I would have escaped its pull without you.

"Anytime," Mozu replied. Holly felt the animal's shivers on her skin. "Can we go back to the dorms now?"

Holly pulled the invisibility cloak over her and the pair snuck back to the tower. Holly collapsed on her bed once in her dormitory, stripping all the fabric from her frame to build a wall around herself as she slept against the nightstands, a warm hug that would keep her warm throughout the night.

_I'm never going back to find that mirror. _Holly declared in her head as she drifted to sleep, Mozu curled around her shoulders. _Never._

* * *

**Boredguy's Grimoire:**

**Ducere In: Lead On; creates a puff of smoke that will lead the caster to whatever they are looking for. Intent-based, if you are looking for a specific person it leads to them; if you are looking for something interesting it will lead to that.**


	10. Course Correction

**Chapter Ten: Course Correction**

* * *

****Reviewer Responses****

**JohnMonty: **I don't plan to introduce Occlumency or Legilimency any further than Daphne's summer practice anytime soon. While I like including as many elements from all the books when I can, I don't want any of my characters to be overpowered. For example, even though Holly has a load of training with her bangles, her prowess with a wand is little to none. Suddenly granting the character's skill with Legilimency and Occlumency feels cheap, especially when it's not exactly useful.

The two will be more like diametrically opposed skills. Occlumency is meant to close the mind from any mind magic, specifically Legilimency. Skill with Occlumency doesn't translate to possessing skill with Legilimency. Often, the skills are interchangeably used in fanfiction as telepathy, which is not the case, at least in my world.

**MorphCross: **Whimsy is something I want to incorporate as often as I can. Many fanfics (and even JK herself, I think) forgot this world needs that splash of whimsy in it to keep the magic seeming magical.

**KaseyKay17: **Yes, the three protagonists will become a solid unit rather soon.

**Alternate historical accounts suggest aliens.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Holly stared down at her copy of _A History of Magic _and tried to keep her eyes from crossing again. Professor Binns rarely handed out assignments, something she was immensely grateful for. An essay a week about goblin wars would have her to drop out before you could say fluffernutter. Unfortunately, Morag still hadn't caught on to the fact that nobody likes a know-it-all. She managed to break Binns from his reverie and ask about assignments over break, which prompted the ghost to assign a foot-long chapter summary.

She glanced over at Hermione. The brunette thumbed through the pages of her textbook and gave a page a cursory glance before furiously scribbling with her quill. Cresswell hovered above her, still as a statue, busy rolling the chinchilla she had obtained yesterday in his fingers.

Her eyes wandered back to her book and she started on the passage she had read for the past fifty minutes. The confusing mix of names shuffled around on her eyelids, Urlec the Unclean and Onrog the Odd.

After rereading the same paragraph for the fourth time, Holly threw her textbook off her lap. It connected with Fay's bedpost with a loud thwack.

Hermione's voice floated up from the floor. "If you want, I'll bribe you with more chocolate frogs."

"Why are we even doing this assignment?" Holly griped. "Binns won't even be able to grade the damn papers; he can't even lift a quill!" She shook out her hair and flopped back on her comforter. "He needs to be sacked."

The sound of Hermione's scratching quill stilled. "Why don't you write a letter to the School Board then? Tell them he needs to be replaced with a competent professor?"

Cresswell paused, his fingers trapping the chinchilla like cage bars. "I could always eat his soul."

"What have I said about soul-eating?" Hermione exasperated.

"Not allowed until the body is dead, I know," Cresswell grumbled. "But since his body is dead already…"

"They won't do anything; if they haven't fired him by now, what makes you think a letter will solve it?" Holly rubbed her eyes and stared at the ceiling. "Although…"

"Although what?"

"If the entire student body declared Binns as incompetent, they'd have to replace him, wouldn't they?" Holly sat up. "Hogwarts is supposed to be the top school in the wizarding UK. If word of a useless class got out, especially for a class as important as history, there would be an uproar." She peered over the edge of her bed at Hermione. "What do you think?"

Hermione tapped her quill on her lower lip. "That might work," she finally agreed. "But you should probably take it to Dumbledore first. He might be the reason Professor Binns isn't fired already. If it's not his choice, you can have him forward the letter to the Board."

"Sounds good to me." Holly tore a new piece of parchment from her bag. "Do you want to write it out?"

"Why would I write out your petition, Holly?"

"Because your writing is more legible than mine."

"Fine," she sighed. She set her paper aside and reached out for the parchment. "What do you want it to say?"

A half-hour later had the petition written and the ink dry. Holly cheered. "Now we only have to find everyone to sign it." She nudged Hermione as the brunette screwed her inkcap on. "Do you want to help me do that, too?"

Hermione tilted her head back to look at the smiling redhead. "I suppose," she relented. "You'd need me to talk with anyone in the Slytherin dorms, anyway."

"Then you can take the paper once we're there."

Cresswell cloaked himself as the exited Holly's room onto the staircase. As they decided, raucous laughter echoed from the Common Area in two identical cackles.

Percy sat in the armchair closest to the fire, his brothers on either side. "We caught him in a snog," The one on the right chanted.

"So now we sing this song," said the left twin.

"Because it's oh so fun,"

"To have a go at everyone!"

"Please stop," said a mortified Percy, his ears bright red.

"Despite who it might be,"

"And especially when it's fam-i-lyyyyy!" The left twin bellowed in a baritone as he leapt onto the table to improve his theatrics.

Holly's applause bounced off the walls. "Good voice!" She laughed. "Who's the lucky lady?"

"She hasn't heard, George."

"No, she hasn't heard, Fred."

"Will you two quit bothering your brother and bugger off?" Gaia's grin betrayed her as she emerged from the staircase behind the two girls. "You don't want to scar these young ladies with the imagery of Percy Weasley wedged in a broom closet, do you?"

Percy's head was in his hands as the twins laughed. "Certainly, milady." George bowed. Fred opted to curtsey. "We can tell a dismissal when it is given to us."

"What's say we go bewitch snowballs to chase Quirrell around?" Fred suggested as the pair headed for the portrait hole.

"Hold on a minute," Holly said. "Could you sign this before you go?" She held up the petition paper, unfurling it so they could see.

The twins looked at each other. "What is it?"

"A petition," said Holly. "I, for one, am tired of the useless busy work given out by Binns. This is a petition to have him removed as the professor for History."

"Why do you want him sacked?" asked Gaia. "The man's already dead."

"Exactly," Hermione replied, "he can't grade anything, he barely notices us when we are in his classroom… it'd be better for everyone if he was removed."

"We'll sign it!" The twins hurried back around the couch and took the quill from Holly's hand. "Real pleasure to be a part of this community service!" said Fred.

"Let us know if you need anything else for this," said George. The portrait door softly shut behind them.

"I agree Binns is a bad teacher," Gaia said, amused. "But I don't think an outright removal of the subject is a good idea."

"Neither do we," said Hermione.

"I knew they wouldn't sign unless they thought they would sign a good deal." Holly's mouth widened into a crooked grin. "So, I conveniently forgot to explain their signatures agree they want a replacement professor as soon as possible."

Gaia smirked. "Smart girl," she took the quill and added her name to the list. "What do you say, Percy?"

The redhead looked up from his seat. His face still had traces of pink as he pushed up his glasses. "A new professor would be good for Hogwarts," he mumbled. "Professor Binns has lectured on nothing but goblin rebellions since my first year here."

Holly smiled as she passed over the quill and parchment. "You wouldn't happen to know where any other students are, do you?"

Percy's cheeks began to heat up again. "Well… Ron, that is, my brother might be napping…" he sputtered. "I'd guess that everyone else is in their dorm right now."

"Even Penny?" Gaia asked, her tone too innocent to be taken seriously.

Percy began to redden again. "Yes," he mumbled. "Most likely."

Gaia's laughter rang as they headed up the stairs to the boy's dorms. They stopped at the landing and Holly knocked. She turned to Hermione. "What?" the brunette asked.

"Do you want to hang back some?" Holly glanced at the door. "Ron's pretty prejudiced against Slytherins."

"Sure," Hermione took a few steps back down to hide from view.

After a minute with no response, Holly opted to pound on the door instead.

"Bugger off, Fred." Ron's voice cut through the door. "I'm napping."

"It isn't Fred," Holly said loudly.

After a minute with no reply except for furniture, the door opened. "How's it going?" Ron said, excitement on his face.

"We wanted you to sign this petition to remove Binns as a professor." Holly held out the parchment and quill. "All your brothers have already signed it."

Ron blinked. "I guess I'd be alright with that," he took the quill and braced the parchment on the doorframe as he signed it. "Did you want to play a round of wizard's chess or something?"

"We need to collect everyone's signatures right now," said Holly as she took the list back. "Maybe some other time though."

"We?" He stepped onto the staircase and swiveled his head to see Hermione. "How did you get in here?!" He demanded.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Holly let me in, of course."

Ron's glare rounded onto her. "Holly! You can't let her wander round our dorm!"

"Why not?" Hermione asked him.

"Because… well, you know," he hesitated. "Because they're evil! All of them! They all supported You-Know-Who. There isn't a witch or a wizard in Slytherin who wasn't evil!"

"That sounds rather bigoted," Hermione piped up from down the stairs. "Just because I'm in a house of bigots doesn't mean I am one. I was raised in a muggle orphanage, for Christ's sake!"

Ron opened his mouth to retort but his mouth morphed into a frown before he could. "Who's Christ?"

"It doesn't matter," Holly interjected coldly. "I'll thank you to not order me about who my friends are." She snatched the quill from his hand and turned to leave. "Thanks for the signature." They headed down the stairs without so much as a backward glance.

* * *

Holly and Hermione spent the rest of the day collecting signatures from all the students who had stayed over the break. Most people signed as soon as they grasped the proposal in full. Tracking people down was the hard part.

Hermione ended up convincing the twin Slytherins, a pair of second-year girls Hemione called 'the Carrows'. How Hermione convinced the pair, Holly didn't know, but both signatures were on the parchment and that's what mattered.

In the library, they managed to find the Ravenclaw girl with the sickle-slice from the Yule Feast. She signed it after a quiet explanation under the reproachful eye of the irate Madame Pince.

When they tried the greenhouses, they only managed to find Professor Sprout. She told them she would speak with the Hufflepuff students, and those interested would find them at dinner.

After an hour searching for the remaining ravens, they ultimately decided to ask Professor Flitwick to notify the other Ravenclaws. The half-goblin assured them he would do so.

All six of the remaining students had joined them at the Gryffindor table and signed the petition before dinner started. Holly was thrilled her plan had worked so well; surely Dumbledore wouldn't ignore a unanimous outcry for change.

At eight o'clock she and Hermione stood to wait in front of the Headmaster's office. "So… is there a bell?" Holly asked.

Hermione sighed. "The door's charmed to only appear after one says the password."

"So, what's the password?"

"All Professor Snape said was that 'Dumbledore enjoys fairy floss'." At her words, the stout gargoyle sprung aside as a grinding noise sounded.

The stone floor the gargoyle had stood on rose, twirling in a circular formation like a demented snake. The girls stepped onto two of the stairs as the stones rose up to a square landing.

Holly rose her hand to knock. Before she could, the door silently swung inwards. The girls entered.

The room was a circular explosion of color. The walls were covered in portraits of what Holly guessed to be the previous headmasters and headmistresses, many of which snoozed in their frames. Several silver instruments on intricate tables stood around the front area of the office, and a golden perch covered in ash stood lonesome in a corner.

A circular stylobate provided higher ground for two velvet armchairs. Four bookshelves laden with tomes sat against the wall, with open space directly behind the Headmaster's chair. One of the shelves housed the ratty shape of the Sorting Hat.

In front of the Headmaster's chair stood a mahogany table with clawed feet, and behind the table sat Dumbledore. "Miss Potter," the man's beard widened into a grandfatherly smile. "Miss Granger. What brought you to my office this evening?"

Hermione gave Holly a nudge and she stepped forward. "Sir," Holly started as she sat down in the right chair. "We've thought about our classes."

"Enjoying them?" Dumbledore asked as he lifted a lemon drop from a jar on the desk.

"Yes, sir." She nodded. "All except one of them."

At his raised brow she unfurled the parchment. "I, along with all sixteen students here at Hogwarts, have made a petition to replace Professor Cuthbert Binns with a more capable, knowledgeable, and personable professor. We agree that the current teaching method for the course History of Magic is not useful or informative. By signing this petition, we formally request that you replace him as soon as possible so that we can properly learn in this environment." She sat back in her chair as Hermione dropped into the one next to her.

Dumbledore picked up the parchment and reread it. "This is some extraordinary quillmanship, Holly."

Holly blinked. "Er, thanks sir, but Hermione is the one who wrote up the petition."

Dumbledore turned to Hermione. "Then, you have my compliments."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione replied. "Now, about the petition…"

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "I do see your point about receiving a better teacher. When Cuthbert's ghost resumed his position despite his unfortunate passing, I thought nothing of it. He was quite knowledgeable back when he was… well…"

"Alive?" Holly finished.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Indeed. Has he not kept the class up to snuff?"

"He only ever talks about goblin rebellions, sir," Hermione said. "On top of that, he never assigns or grades any work. I can't possibly see how people have passed his end of the year examinations."

Dumbledore stroked his long beard. "I understand. He will be disappointed that he will have to find a new house to haunt, but if it is for the good of Hogwarts, so be it."

Holly glanced at Hermione. "You don't have to throw him out, sir." She said. "He could have one of the empty classrooms and continue to do what he always does: drone at empty desks."

Dumbledore beamed. "An excellent suggestion, Holly." His eyes twinkled from behind his half-moon spectacles. "I will approach the School Board tomorrow and inform them of this petition. I do believe we can find a replacement for Cuthbert by the time term begins." He smiled at them and gestured to the door. "Miss Granger, if I may have a word with Holly in private?"

Hermione glanced at her. Holly looked back to Dumbledore and gave a tiny nod. Her friend turned and shut the door behind her.

"Holly," Dumbledore sighed and removed his glasses. "I must apologize to you for a great failure I have made in your past." At her silence, he continued. "Hagrid approached me recently and informed me that you were forced to run away from the Dursley's at a very young age."

Holly stiffened for a minute under the name of her relatives. If Dumbledore had noticed, he paid it no mind. "I placed you in their care to protect you from the dangers of our world. Despite Voldemort's death, the war was not yet over. We wanted to keep you safe from anyone who would harm you."

Holly's fingers tightened on the chair. "All due respect sir, but you should have checked on me if that were the case."

Dumbledore looked at her with sad eyes. "I should have, yes. And after what Hagrid and Professor McGonagall have told me, I have decided you should not return to them at the end of this year."

"I wouldn't go back even if you said I had to sir," Holly said. "I planned to spend the summer in Diagon Alley. Tom let me rent a room for the summer this year, and I planned to do it again."

"Another excellent idea," the Headmaster bowed. "And now, the final issue I must discuss with you. The Mirror of Erised."

Holly's head snapped up. "Do not worry about punishments, Holly." Dumbledore assured her. "I do not plan to set you up with any detentions. However, I must implore that you never search for the mirror again. Despite what it shows you—"

"I don't want to find it again!" Holly said forcefully. "I hated seeing it the last time; what makes you think I'd want to look into it again?"

Dumbledore appeared taken aback. "The mirror shows people their heart's deepest desire, Holly." He returned his glasses to his nose and continued. "Men have wasted away staring at the illusion rather than attempting to make what they see reality."

"Erased," whispered Holly. She turned her eyes up into Dumbledores. "Headmaster, how do you even know I found the mirror? And what is it doing here if it is so dangerous?"

"To answer your first question, I was informed by Fawkes." Dumbledore gestured to the perch. "He isn't here at the moment, but he is watching the mirror until it's move is complete."

"To answer your second question, it needed to stay here for a short period of safekeeping."

Holly's eyes blinked at the Headmaster's words. "I implore you to not search for it again." He repeated.

"I won't Headmaster," she motioned to the door. "May I go now?"

Dumbledore bowed his head. "Have a good night."

Holly met Hermione at the bottom of the stairs. "What did Dumbledore want to talk to you about?" She asked.

"My relatives," Holly nodded to herself as they walked up the moving staircases. "I'll tell you once we're in my room," she said under her breath. Hermione's head tilted but she gave no sign she had heard other than a nearly imperceptible nod.

"Dungarees," she told the Fat Lady. The door opened and the two hurried in, back to the security of Holly's room, where watching birds couldn't listen in. Holly locked the door and sat on the bed. "It's kind of a long story…."

* * *

Dumbledore rubbed his head as he emerged from his pensieve. He had examined and reexamined the memory of his office meeting with Holly. The way she reacted when he mentioned her family wasn't unlike how Tom had acted when they had first met.

His investigations hadn't revealed much. Her mysterious response of 'Erased' was interesting. It added a new coat of sinister paint over the mirror's true purpose.

Still, his olive branch was of great benefit. Thank Merlin Hagrid and Minerva had told him as much as they had, otherwise he would have been in the dark as to the nature of her childhood. Now, his peace offering had her view him as a man to be trusted again.

Sending a child back to a place they were desperate to escape from never ended well. It hadn't worked for Tom, it hadn't for Severus, and it wouldn't work now.

He stroked his beard as more memories shimmered beneath him. He had expected Holly to use the invisibility cloak to investigate the third-floor corridor, not go wandering into a hornet's nest. Although, as Minerva predicted, she was a whirlwind of skill when using her bangles.

Still, Holly's reaction to seeing her family was mystifying. Why anyone would reject the sight of their family escaped him.

He wished he could have dug deeper into her memories, but that would require careful concentration to ensure his use of legilimency was not discovered. And since one cannot hold a conversation while bilocating, his scan of important, recent events would have to do. The sheer _anger_ she had felt when she saw Lily and James…

Dumbledore felt a pain in his heart. Whenever he thought of these broken families, his thoughts always steered towards Arianna. Perhaps he should visit Aberforth sometime before the break ended.

He shook his head. He had no time for visits. He needed to finish setting up the defenses around the Philosopher's Stone. And now, it looked like he had to meet with the Board of Governors to schedule.

He scowled. Replacing Binns was a stonewall he had kept high for decades. The ghost's crumbling mental state left plenty of focus away from the war, from the actions he had done. It had kept charlatans who would lecture on how superior purebloods were away from leading the course. Now, that security was gone.

_You had to pick a battle_, he reminded himself. _Everyone must make choices. It will all even out in the end._

_For the greater good, it must._

* * *

The halls of Malfoy Manor were silent as the night dragged over into the new day. Moonlight pooled through her window, illuminating the few objects laid on her bedspread.

Daphne retraced the path to the floo room in her head as she silently changed from her pureblood garb to her muggle clothes. Narcissa had wanted to chuck them into a fire, but Daphne had refused. The small sentiments inlaid with each article were too powerful for her to abandon at the flick of a wrist.

She slipped her phone into her front right pocket, a jumble of galleons in her left, and tucked her wand into the wand holster she had owl-ordered from Wiseacres Wizarding Equipment. Palming her knife, she slowly opened the door to her room and crept into the hall.

Once in the Malfoy's floo room, she cautiously reached onto the mantle and gathered a handful of the grey powder into her hand. "The Leaky Cauldron," she whispered. The emerald flames roared to life and she appeared from the fireplace.

Hood up, she stepped lightly past the gaggle of drunks out into Muggle London and searched the streets for the nearest shop. A bagful of items in hand, she walked back outside and paced until she found an empty street.

A colossal bang roared to life as the purple bus screamed to a halt in front of her. An acne-riddled young wizard stepped through the bus doors and landed squarely on the cobblestone. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for any stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand 'and, step on board, an' we will take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike an' I will be your conductor for this evening."

Daphne flipped her wand back into its holster. "How much to Cardiff?"

Stan looked her over. "You are a witch, aren't you?"

"I'm in muggle clothes, yes," Daphne restrained her annoyance. "Can we go now?"

Stan snorted. "Sassy little thing, aren't choo?" He muttered as she boarded.

He led her to a brass bedstead set up on a luggage trolley. "Where is it you want to go?" Stan asked her.

"Cardiff," Daphne repeated.

"Cardiff, Ern." Stan reiterated her instructions to an elderly man with enormous frames on his glasses. He nodded and fiddled with the controls before the bus shot off with another bang.

Daphne lay back on the bedstead and tried to ignore the sunken feeling in her gut as they drew closer to her destination. "Can you drop me off at the Tyneside Road Park?"

"Tyneside Park, sure ting." Stan said in between chewing his fingernails. "Say, ain't choo that Greengrass heiress?"

"No." She lied flatly.

"A Greengrass runnin' around in muggle clothes? Dat's funny enough to drop dead!" A shrunken head on the driver's dash swiveled around. "Well, you know what dey say: the grass is always greener when its buried six feet under! Hahahahahahaaah!"

Stan swatted at the demented head, hitting the driver across the face a few times in the process. They almost wrecked with a taxicab; luckily the driver was able to pull the bus out of the way in time.

Daphne ignored the service staff after that. She refused Stan's offer of hot chocolate and handed over the galleon to pay for the journey.

After a long time spent staring at a crystal chandelier, her stop finally rang. She stalked off the bus, chased by Stan's "Hopes to see you soon!"

As soon as the bus vanished, she started walking. After a solid thirty minutes, she found it.

A blackened crater rose where The Blind Tiger once stood. The building only had two of its walls standing, both thoroughly burned down to the concrete. The upper floors were completely gone, a sparse timber beam the only indication they ever existed.

Daphne stepped over the police tape and threaded her way through the detritus to the front of the pit. She gazed over the edge into the debris field of wood, rock, metal, and ash.

"They've already been pulled out."

She turned around to see Nikki's mess of blonde hair. Her face was weary, either from emotional turmoil or weariness from the early hour, she couldn't tell. Part of her hair was singed away on her left side. It was clear she had taken a pair of scissors to the other half to even it out.

Daphne opened her mouth, but Nikki hugged her before she had the chance to say anything. Her mouth closed as she felt Nikki's muscles relax, her mood shift, and her veneer crack in two.

She held her mentor as Nikki's hands clutched her back. The blonde composed herself and pulled away, tears in her blue orbs. "I missed you Daph."

Daphne felt her heart ache. "I missed you too," she said softly. "But you need to show me where you're holed up at." She glanced up and down the still-empty street. "Two teenagers crying next to a recent blaze is something the bobbies will find suspicious."

Nikki half-laughed. "Yeah." She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "Come on."

Daphne followed her across the Tyneside bridge to a decrepit building that looked as though it might have once been a cargo bay. Two pairs of footsteps bounced off the rusty walls in clanking echoes. Rotting palettes and tagged box crates littered the floor as they made their way to the supervisor's office.

The office furniture was still intact. Shipping manifests papered the floor. File cabinets stood like resolute sentries beside the glass window, and the overhead lights replaced with a pair of torches.

Nikki collapsed into the swivel chair behind the desk. Daphne settled back onto the long metal desk in front of the east wall, her back against the wall.

Nikki snickered. "Looks as if someone has finally beaten etiquette into you," She gestured to Daphne's poise.

"I don't realize I do it," Daphne shrugged, a half-smile on her lips. She cast a second glance over the small room. "Do you have everything you need?"

"I have enough." The blonde ran a hand through her hair and peered at her.

"How did it happen?"

"I'm not entirely sure," she tapped her hand on the desk. "I had gone out to pick up the food for the week with Dinah and Lars. Right when we were off the bus, we heard the sirens." Nikki fiddled with her fingers. "I told Dinah and Lars to find a hiding spot and walked close enough to see it in flames. That's when I called you."

"Who all made it out?"

"Maybe six of the others," Nikki answered. "That's counting Ada and Lars."

Daphne frowned. "Where did they run off too?"

"Taken away by the bobbies," she grimaced. "Them and all other survivors. I suspect they've been shipped to a care home somewhere." Nikki rubbed her hands on her arms.

Daphne's eyes didn't waver from her mentor as the blonde shook her head. "The fire and rescue service tried to put it out, but it wouldn't die down." A choked sob spilled from her throat. "They were lining bodies out on the grass and there were just so _many_."

Daphne moved from the desk and pulled Nikki into an embrace. She shook as tears soaked into Daphne's shoulder. "They meant everything to me," Nikki managed to slip out before she broke down in her arms, crying for a long, long while.

The conversation died as Nikki opened up her catharsis. Daphne stroked her hair. "My wards should've stopped this," her eyes narrowed. "Where was Louie during the fire?"

"I don't know," Daphne tensed as Nikki pulled back to sit on the desk. "I think he made it out. There wasn't a sheet long enough to be him in the end." She looked at Daphne's furious face. "I know what you're thinking, Daph." She murmured. "But he wouldn't have done it. His profit engine was too well oiled for something like this."

"It had to have started on the inside," the witch insisted. "The wards stop anything dangerous. God, hardly anyone even knew it existed because of the cloaking scheme!" She flicked her wand out of her hand and cast an explosive spell at one of the many crates on the work floor. It tore a hole into the metal with a screech and rocked the prism onto its side with a hollow thud.

She tucked her wand back into her holster. "I should have been there," she muttered. "I should have fucking been here." She felt the blonde's eyes watch her fingers tighten.

Nikki let out a mirthless laugh. "I didn't think you'd care about saving that place."

"I didn't." The dark-haired girl admitted. She looked at her friend. "But you did."

A minute of silence passed over the room. "You couldn't have known about your cell," the blonde exhaled. "And I don't think you could've made it here from Scotland in time, anyways."

"But I—"

"It's not your fault," Nikki said sternly. Her face softened. "It was probably started by someone's careless cigarette. Maybe Louie had worn out the gas line, who knows?" The blonde stared at Daphne's silent form for a few minutes. "Daph."

"Yes?"

"Thanks for checking on me."

"Always," the witch nodded. "Besides, I had to deliver your Christmas presents."

She shrugged her knapsack off her shoulders and tipped it over to reveal shirts, jeans, a coat, sunglasses, a baseball cap, a thick blanket, soap, a towel, mittens, a lighter, batteries, a new charger, a small switchblade, cans of food, and three hundred dollars in fifty-pound notes.

Nikki gazed at the pile on her desk. "You didn't have to do this." The older girl said as she slowly rose her eyes to Daphne's.

"Technically, I did." Daphne shrugged. "I'm rich now, anyway. I can afford to keep my friends alive. And…" she removed her wand again. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The papers around the room floated into the air, spinning in a circle and stacking themselves neatly in a corner. "Reparo!" The shattered glass of the supervisor's window flew into place.

"And…" Daphne reached inside her jumper pocket and removed a collection of polished brown rocks. "One last set of these. I made them yesterday; all we have to do is set them up."

The sounds of a stirring Cardiff echoed around them as the two girls planted the runestones. Once the four anchors were buried, Daphne lifted the smallest one and pricked her finger.

A drop of blood soaked into the stone. The liquid filled the grooves with a crimson hue. "Activate."

The ward stone shone orange, buzzing gently as the wards activated. Daphne smiled; the Malfoy library's cache of knowledge had taught her the new methodology of blood runes. "The ward won't run dry, as long as I'm alive." She placed the stone in Nikki's pocket. "Make sure to keep it tucked away; any scratches to the marks could cause a collapse in the scheme."

Her mentor shook her head as she placed the stone in the super's desk. "I remember when I was the one who took care of you," she murmured. "Now look at us. You've grown up."

Daphne pulled her into another hug. "You're still my sister," she whispered. "Even if I'm away, I'll always come running." She looked into her mentor's eyes. "Always."

* * *

Daphne stared at the twinkling chandelier as the Knight Bus careened through the streets on its way back to Diagon Alley. She had never expected her wards to be the cause of so much death.

The configuration she had used for The Blind Tiger was flawed. Too simple. The protective layers preventing people who meant harm to the business and preventing discovery almost worked too well for the amateur nature of the runes. Of course they would collapse under the strain of a fire, with how... improper they were, being based off the runic designs from _The Hobbit._

The death of her faceless, nameless coworkers didn't phase her. But the pain on Nikki's face… it had hit her like a bolt of lightning. Nikki was never supposed to be reduced to tears like that. She was the strong one, the force that always protected her and kept her going.

She never wanted Nikki to break down in her arms like that again.

She sighed. The blood wards she had crafted from the tomes in the Malfoy library seemed like they would work well enough. She specifically designed these with the Tiger's incident in mind. Two nights without sleep well spent.

She shut her eyes in an attempt to rest before her stop came. For once, she truly needed it.

* * *

**Boredguy's Grimoire:**

**Activate: Activate: Common spell to 'turn on' a runic scheme. Used more for chained schemes than singular runic carvings.**


	11. Resuming the Grind

**Chapter Eleven: Back to Business**

* * *

****Reviewer Responses****

**DarkonCledwin: **I suppose? I did some research into orphanages, and while state-run orphanages were phased out of the United States and the United Kingdom by 1980, a few still existed as "care homes". Care homes are essentially households that provide room and board to children that cannot live with their parents, either because of death, abuse, neglect, or because the parents simply want to put them up at a better house than they can provide. A care home can be operated by multiple people rather than a married couple, and the standards for clothing, education, and religion are put in place by the care home. General oversight of these care homes can be poor, especially back when the program is in its infancy.

I don't know what a contract demon is, I only watched the first three seasons of supernatural. Once they introduced angels, I stopped watching it because it was essentially the same problem every episode: kill this demon and move on. However, Cresswell is not contracted; Hermione accidentally bound his essence to her through her summoning.

I don't quite understand what you mean by Stan's presence defying odds… I'm guessing you mean "why the heck he is the only conductor we've ever had on the bus". You can chalk that up to me not inventing another conductor character yet.

**They say violence only breeds violence… so I punched them in the face.**

**Enjoy**

* * *

The remainder of the winter holidays were frightfully short. Hermione spent the majority of her time studying ahead in her textbooks, her focus on DADA and Charms. Despite her exceptions, Quirrell's classroom continued to leave her pale and shaken, and she needed to secure a foundation for any future lessons. Charms was simply the only other textbook of interest she could feasibly study. Professor McGonagall's threat against reading ahead still rang in her ears whenever she considered it, and the other classes were on lockdown with her telescope under lock and key inside the Astronomy Tower, the greenhouses under renovation, and the potions laboratory barricaded by Professor Snape for his personal projects.

Aside from study, the castle provided little in means off entertainment. She and Holly managed to find a way into Hogwarts's Clock Tower, which was so mechanically complex it made Big Ben look like a wristwatch. An enormous pendulum swung back and forth, so large it reached from the third floor down to the ground. Gears the size of taxis turned in slow circles, and the bells of the tower sounded like cannon blasts rather than majestic peals.

With all of her dormmates gone, free-range of the common area was hers to savor. Cresswell was free to remain uncloaked for long stretches of time, and he reveled in the allocation. Occasionally, she would stay with Holly in the Gryffindor's dorm for some company, but she spent most of her time in the Slytherin dorm. Hermione felt somewhat bad about leaving Holly to herself, but the redhead discovered a deft hand at Quidditch when she went out with the Weasleys and Gaia, so her guilt was easily squashed. The redhead's tale of the Mirror of Erised intrigued her, and despite Holly's vow to never search for it, Hermione made no such conviction. It eluded every room she checked.

January third saw the return of the Hogwarts express and yet another feast. The Great Hall's ceiling had been returned to its usual illusion of sky, and the candles returned to their original colors. Hermione was a tad annoyed she could no longer sit next to her friend for meals and engaged in conversation with Millicent and Lily instead.

After the last of the desserts were whisked away, the Headmaster stood. The Hall fell silent.

"Welcome!" Headmaster Dumbledore spoke, his voice reverberating with the aid of a Sonorus charm. "Welcome back to Hogwarts! Before we can depart to our cozy beds, I have a few announcements."

"Over the break, the school board and I conferred on whether or not the education at Hogwarts was up to snuff. It was agreed upon that Professor Binns ought to be provided the retirement he earned long, long ago." He paused as raucous applause and cheers erupted in the Hall.

Hermione watched Draco abstain from the disturbance. "I've known about this since Yule," he bragged to Pansy. "Father told me all about it. Apparently, the change was initiated by those who stayed here at Hogwarts." His eyes flicked to her for a brief second before he returned them to the Headmaster.

"As such, we have elected a new professor to the post." Dumbledore gestured to his left. "Please join me in welcoming Mr. Timothy M. Errol to our school!" The elderly man clapped along with the students as a man with a brown walrus moustache, oval-shaped glasses, neatly combed short hair, and a dark brown cloak stood. He resumed his seat as Dumbledore continued. "The third-floor corridor is still out of bounds, and due to many a mischievous student," the man's eyes twinkled behind his glasses. "The door was reinforced. _Heavily_. It can only be opened by specific members of the staff, so I will advise you not to waste precious time on attempts to enter."

"Now, before our eyes grow too heavy, let us depart. Good night."

Hermione silently kept pace alongside Lily as the Slytherins returned to their dormitory. Changed, under the covers, and door silenced, she extinguished the lamp and closed her eyes for the soon-to-come tomorrow.

* * *

Classes resumed over the weekend with explosive ferocity. The coursework grew harder and harder with each passing day. Nobody completed spells on the first day anymore in Charms, and McGonagall's already rare compliments thinned to extinction.

The greenhouses had grown more unforgiving, and their first lesson back left many students in tears. Professor Sprout had them search through tubs of clover for raskovnik, a clover-shaped herb that could open any lock. The trick was not only to spot the four-leafed plant; they had to later verify it was the magical flora by presenting it to a badger, as subterranean animals could somehow sense the correct vegetation. Hermione believed the chosen animal to be an interesting show of house patriotism (given Professor Sprout's usual stance against favoritism) but said no words against it. Pansy was not so wise and chose to whine about how the Slytherins should present their plants to a snake instead. Her multiple complaints landed her detention for distracting the work environment.

Professor Errol's class provided a much-needed change to the Monday learning routine. Located one floor above the previous classroom, he had transformed the dull stonework cage of Professor Binns' room into one of color and curiosities. Several bookshelves made of beech were crammed along the walls, each full to burst with tomes and artifacts. Glass cases immortalized bits of rock ranging from pieces of the Stone of Scone to the Blarney Castle. Swords and armor hung above the stouter shelves, along with what looked suspiciously similar to a selkie pelt and a replica of Merlin's Holy Grail.

His first day began with a fiery oration on the importance of history that made Winston Churchill look like Elmer Fudd, all while he waved around a sword claimed to be the legendary Caledfwlch.

"The point of history is to impart the lessons our former generations have taught us. To learn how change occurs and how to recognize when change is needed." Professor Errol eyed each student through his glasses. "Now, lift a quill out. We must begin."

The remainder of the class he spent lecturing through the Iron Age all the way to the end of Roman occupation. "Provide a six-inch report on the enchantments placed as part of Hadrian's Wall and how it failed by next week!" Professor Errol decreed as the class filed out the door.

Hermione waited until the classroom emptied to approach his desk. "Professor, I was wondering if you knew any information about Nicholas Flamel?"

"Flamel?" smiled Professor Errol. The motion caused the corners off his moustache to turn up. "The Frenchman who managed to create a functional Philosopher's Stone? What do you need to know about him, lass?"

"I'm curious about alchemy, I suppose." She replied carefully, ignoring Cresswell's examination of the artifacts on the wall. "Didn't know if you knew any trivia important about him."

"I'm afraid not," sighed the professor. "The man likes his privacy. Aside from his four manuscripts and his work with alchemy, I doubt there's much else you'll find on him." He twiddled his moustache in thought. "Perhaps our Headmaster will meet with you; I believe he apprenticed under Flamel some time ago."

Hermione nodded. "I'll try him, then. Thank you, sir." She left his room to hurry for the DADA classroom, mentally groaning. She would have to search the library books again that night, a feat to be undertaken alone thanks to Holly's insistence on watching that evening's Quidditch practice.

* * *

"Young lady," Hermione glanced up from _Apotropaic Magic of the British Isles _to see the sour face of Madame Pince. The elderly woman brandished a feather duster in her direction from behind the shelving cart. "It's ten till curfew. Either add the book to the cart or check it out.

"My apologies, Madame," Hermione responded politely as she packed away her supplies. "I didn't mean to hold up your close. I was lost in my research." The librarian's glare softened at her words. "I believe I'll check it out."

"I thought as much," Madame Pince hobbled to the trolley and pulled out the stamper. She took the tome's card and stamped it. The ink reformed on the page into the date it would be due back.

"Have a good night," Hermione whispered as she packed the book into her bag. Madame Pince nodded and continued her search for studying students as Hermione strode to the exit.

Hermione slowly meandered down the hallways to her dormitory, she paused at every unused classroom door to peek inside. "You said you weren't going to look for it." Cresswell admonished from above her.

"I know." She paused and turned the handle. Empty. "But my fingers were crossed."

"You want the same plight as Odysseus?" Cresswell made a rude gesture at a painting of several monks as they busied around a cauldron. "Is the sight that important to you?"

"Yes, it is." Hermione exhaled through her nose. "I need to know my desires. It made Odysseus wiser in the end, didn't it?" She closed the door to another empty room.

"Any hidden desire within me— that's a weakness. I'll need to know what that is."

Cresswell remained silent as she checked another room. "It's past curfew, young miss," a painting of a curly-haired wizard sniffed.

"I'm searching for my cat," the brunette responded. "I'll be along soon." She batted Cresswell's fingers away from tearing into the canvas and pressed on to the ground level.

She tried the first knob on the East Corridor when a magnificent crash echoed from down the hall. _The hell?_

In the middle of the hall, a wooden door strained from the pressures on it. The quieting, imperturbable, and notice-me-not charms screeched for a reprieve as another burst of clanging metal echoed from inside.

"Can you remove the charms?" she asked.

"At the next sound, yes." Another chorus of smashing wood sounded through the door, Cresswell stuck his left hand into the space in front of it. The spells shone in flickers of translucent pink, white, and silver at his touch. A sharp movement of his claws and they tore like tissue paper.

"Thank you," she whispered to him. Cresswell nodded and recloaked himself as Hermione turned the knob open.

* * *

Daphne was pissed.

She took a deep breath and jabbed her wand at the shards of glass on the floor. "Reparo." The pieces sprang from the floor and remolded into the glorious figure of three swans and landed gently on the table.

"Flipendo!" A burst of blue energy shot into the glass. The figure flew from its pediment into the wall with another satisfying shatter.

Daphne stared at the shattered glass as the words echoed in her ear.

_My family can't partner with you. I won't let them slip through my fingers. You are too large a risk. Too valuable to leave alone. You cannot sneak out behind our backs. You're all grown up. You're still a child. You aren't worth enough yet._

"Incendio!" The tower of chairs and desks in the corner combusted, the red and yellow flames licking greedily as the wood burned. It was all too much.

Her return to Malfoy Manor on the twenty-seventh was not well-received. Lucius launched into a tirade about mudbloods before Narcissa sent him away. She was no happier or less forgiving even with her calm demeanor. The pureblood raged about press discoveries to" dangers amongst the animals" for a full two hours until she finally sent her to bed.

Daphne hated her when she said that. She hated when people underestimated her, and she knew Narcissa knew she was powerful enough to take care of herself. Draco, the little shit, smirked throughout the next few days at her apparent 'mistake'.

Even Astoria responded icily about the revelation at first. She kept away from her until night fell, finally appearing with a knock on her door.

Her sister entered upon her permission and tiptoed across the floor to her bed. "You weren't out falling off, were you?"

The words tore her apart. She held her sister tight as Astoria cried, worry in her eyes. Worried her big sister had started down the path to hell again.

Daphne told her about Nikki's phone call. About how The Tiger was gone, the staff reduced to ash. Her sister cried herself to exhaustion and slept with her that night.

The next day she overheard Lucius and Narcissa as they argued about her and Astoria while on her way through the manor to reach the kitchens. About their plans to keep them dependent on the Malfoy name, to raise them into people of the same caliber that had gone after her father: bigoted purebloods. It took all her self-control not to let her anger at their scheme show when she joined them at meals.

_To be fair, it was Lucius's plan. _She reasoned as she watched the blaze rise in power. Narcissa didn't budge on her plan to bring them back to the wizarding world as a prominent family, but her ambition was focused on the praise she'd receive as a benevolent restorationist.

_We're not displays in a fucking museum._

The worst news came while aboard the Hogwarts express. Li delivered her grandfather's reply. He saw an alliance as too risky given the business would not be run at full capacity until she was recognized by the Wizengamot.

While it wasn't the worst answer she could've received, it still pushed her back. Without a reliable supplier or well-known name in place, fewer customers would choose her to ship over their product.

"Augamenti." The flames sputtered out underneath the conjured water. She cast more charms, repairing the damage she wrecked across the room. Her muscles tingled under the strain from all her magic. She ignored it.

Finished with her clean up, Daphne leaned back onto the floor. The chill of the rock beneath her soothed her aching muscles. _I hope I haven't run a fever._

She caught her breath and pulled herself to her feet. "Are you going to introduce yourself or stick to snooping where you aren't wanted?"

The Granger girl stepped out from behind one of the colonnades. "I wasn't snooping." The bushy-haired brunette stated. "I didn't want to interrupt you, is all."

Daphne smiled sweetly. "So you were treading carefully."

"Somewhat so."

"So that you wouldn't be heard."

The girl's lips pinched together. "Yes."

"So you were snooping."

"It's an interesting point," Granger conceded.

Daphne fingered her arm. Her wand holster thrummed against her ulna as she watched the Slytherin's movements. "Here to pick up some tips then?" The words spilled out of her mouth as she talked. Her subconscious anger at the girl was showing.

Granger tilted her head. "What would I need tips from you on?"

Daphne shrugged. "A little decorum wouldn't hurt." She narrowed her eyes. "Learn how to cast advanced magic so you could catch up in our classes."

"Classwork is measured not by how advanced one is, but how competent they perform." Her tone was too matter of fact. "The only reason you surpass me in classes is because of my unfortunate ailment inside the DADA classroom."

_That must have stung her. Her face is too neutral to be true; she's feigning nonchalance. _Her blue eyes flashed as they roved over Granger. "So, what has you out and not-snooping around tonight?"

"No reason in particular." The flat edge to Granger's voice was masked beneath false cheer. "I find a small wander every now and then to be quite relaxing, is all. When I found such an intriguing door, I decided to investigate." The snake rocked on her heels like a small child. "Your advanced magic is very good. I'm surprised someone with your skill wasn't placed in a different house."

Daphne stared at Granger. _Did she… she dared…_ Her anger roared for retaliation. Her hostler vibrated from the pulse of the blood beneath it.

"Well," her voice cut through the air, barely higher than a handbell. "Walking around can hardly release as much catharsis as splattering troll brains around a bathroom floor."

_Bingo. _Granger stiffened; her shoulders taut. Her head returned to its proper orientation. "I never did such a thing," she professed. "That incident ended with the troll knocked unconscious, not dead."

"Oh, of_ course_ you did," the saccharine smile on her face would not go away. "That's why it took the teachers so long to return to the Great Hall. They were stuck on the clean up after you took the troll's head off."

Granger met her eyes. "Whatever Pansy's spread around is a load of rubbish." She hissed through her teeth, attempting to invoke the animal of her house.

Daphne laughed. "You think I care about whatever Parkinson says? You know how she treats me; why on earth would I follow her version of events? No." Daphne flicked her wand out. "No, I know what the truth is because my friends are in high places."

"Where were yours again? By your side in the bathroom, eager for more glory." The humming sensation teetered toward the unbearable, but she held her spell in. "Eager to widen your net and secure all the fame and praise in the world."

Granger's head tilted. "Your eyes… why, they've turned green." The bitch's face was blank. Her eyes were not, shimmering with laughter and smug satisfaction.

_Fuck it_. "Flipendo!" The blue energy burst from her wand and headed straight for her target.

"Protego." Her spell bounced harmlessly off the invisible barrier. It dissipated into the ether as Granger smiled. "You aren't the only one capable of self-study." The bitch taunted, laughter in her eyes.

Daphne ground her teeth. "Incendio!" The heat from her flames washed over her as the orange blaze zeroed in. Even if Granger tried a shield charm, it would undoubtedly be too small to cover her entire body.

Granger didn't bat an eye at the surging flames. She didn't even raise her wand as they neared closer and closer… only to be deflected around her. A faint shadow played with Daphne's eyesight as the fire raged— a bulging flicker that seemed to exist in front of Granger.

"Flipendo." Daphne jerked her body to the left to avoid the jinx. It sailed past her arm harmlessly, blasting one of the desks into the wall behind her.

_There's an idea... _She spun to the right to dodge another spell and levied her wand at the pile of desks. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The pile of furniture teetered as she pulled several desks into the air. Her hand tore through the pace in front of her and she the majority of the tables shooting toward Granger. A fortunate three she maneuvered in front of herself to serve as a barricade.

She ignored the smashes and splinters ahead of her and flipped out her switchblade. The chandelier jangled above as she levitated more desks and threw them in Granger's direction. Carefully, she inscribed the runes needed into the stone floor. U, n, d, a…

She finished the last scratches as her opponent shouted "Erucae!"

Wine corks flew through the air, blasting around the room with bursts like cannon fire. Few aimed true and pelted her as Daphne shielded her face with her arms.

"Mobiliarbus!" The raven-haired girl raised the remains of the desks into the air and launched them at Granger.

"Corticibus lignorum!" Granger's transfiguration restocked her arsenal of cork. She jabbed her wand at sliced it at Daphne. "Erucae!"

The Hufflepuff dove under the assault. She slid across the stone floor on her knees and tapped her carving with her wand. "Activate!"

The floor bulged obscenely as the rune activated, pushing down as the nearby floor surged up. The tables she placed earlier flew into the air and crashed to the side along the wave. Daphne rolled with the initial force as it pushed her and made it to her feet in time to jump over the upturned floor.

Granger was not as competent. The ripple crashed like a wave, knocking Granger's feet out from under her. The next one slammed into her before she could rise, propelling her further away.

Daphne's feet moved. She hopped over the dip in the floor and charged, wand in hand. "Incendio!" Her second flame charm met the same fate as the first, completely obscuring her view of Granger. The same trick of the light appeared again in a ploy of beautiful happenstance.

A metallic shriek caught her attention. She jumped over the next wave and searched for the cause. Her ears prickled as she turned her eyes up. _The chandelier?_

Despite the distance, she could easily tell that one of the chain links looked too thin. It snapped suddenly, tearing loose from the link above it and plummeted down. She rolled out of the way as it crashed to the floor, beads of crystal scattering like cockroaches. A few managed to scrape across her rune. The scratches broke her cast; its light faded as the floor returned to a level plane.

She stared at the destruction for a second before resuming her path to Granger. The bitch fired another Flipendo jinx at her, which was easily dodged with a roll to the right. Daphne pulled her blade back out from its place as Granger rose, back on her feet. A feint to the right and Daphne struck.

Her blade clinked harmlessly off of nothing. Well, that wasn't completely true, it hit something solid, something invisible. She aimed lower. Still her blade bounced away, the force rebounding into her arm. It made her wrist feel like she sprained it.

She ignored the pain to swipe again, circling like a vulture. Each attempt was blocked by the same force until she was back in front of Granger's stupid face. The girl smiled through her ragged breaths and levied her wand at Daphne. "Flipendo."

"Protego!" The spell ignored Daphne's shield entirely. Her nerve endings tickled with ache as the magic stubbornly formed.

But Granger's spell rushed to the side of it, the blue energy connected with her switchblade. It wrenched itself from her hand and flipped end over end to impale itself in one of the remaining desks on the other side of the room.

Daphne turned and swept her leg around to kick Granger's knee. The girl winced and staggered, her next curse wasted on the ceiling above them. She aimed a punch at the brunette's ear, but the girl twisted to move aside. Her arm caught Daphne with a blow to the gut.

She leaned out of the way of an elbow and aimed for Granger's chest, but the girl managed to raise an arm in the way to block her fist and bat it aside.

"Flipendo," the girl panted. The blue energy failed to form, and Granger's arm twitched uselessly. Her nerves were evidently spent, her magic gone. Her fingers could barely hold her wand anymore.

Daphne's own jinx pushed the girl's wand out of her hand. "Tired, Granger?" she taunted as she brought her knee forward. It connected in between Granger's legs, and the girl gasped as she took a left hook to the stomach. Daphne slipped her wand into its holster and struck again and again as the brunette hissed in pain and impotent anger. She raised her arms in motions to defend herself, but her reflexes were too dull to prevent Daphne's hands from completing their mission.

Time slipped by as the pair traded blows, Granger receiving more often than not. Daphne's knuckles burned against Granger's face as her lip busted into a stream of red. She ignored the girl's listless eyes and swung into her jaw. The Slytherin's knees slid from under her and she fell to the ground, down for the count.

The Hufflepuff caught her breath as she wiped her spit from her face. Granger landed a few hits, but they were few and far between the beating. Her opponent clearly had not been at her full strength, but all was fair in a fight.

As Daphne staggered away, the same shadow she had seen earlier wavered. She waited in confusion, sure her black eye had affected her vision until the warping mass let out a chittering roar and swung at her.

The blow made her entire arm fall numb. The force sent her stumble toward the right, barely to the ground. She kept her balance enough to peer at the shape as it swung again. Pain exploded across her chest and Daphne vaguely recognized she was in the air as the world turned around her. Her back burned as she collided with the wall and she bounced off it to the floor.

Her vision fading, the last sensation she heard was the sounds of a splintered door and rushing feet.

_Shit._

* * *

Daphne gasped as the black veil of unconsciousness was ripped aside. She shakily breathed in and turned to her left to see the disapproving face of nurse Pomfrey. "What the hell was that?"

"Language, Miss Greengrass." Pomfrey's face soured as she tucked her wand into her robes. "Lay back against the bed now or I shall tie you to it."

Daphne did as she was told but her eyes wandered frantically. The hospital wing flickered in the light of the candles placed throughout it. Across her bed lay Granger, tucked under the covers and fast asleep.

"Whatever reason you two had for your little spat better be a good one," Pomfrey warned as she popped the cork from a potion. "Open up."

Daphne tipped her head back and swallowed the potion. "What's that for?" she croaked out.

"Strength replenisher," replied Pomfrey. "I've never seen two first years so magically exhausted. Why on earth were you both out, after curfew, and dueling?!" The nurse pried the lid of a tin off and started to rub the salve within on Daphne's shiner.

"It's tender you know," Pomfrey gave her a glare and Daphne relented. "I was letting out some steam in the room. Granger came along and decided to snoop instead of mind her own business. I didn't much like that, and we ended up trading barbs." She glanced away from the matron's stern face. "Then we fought."

Pomfrey sighed. "Well, you are both lucky neither of you committed any permanent damage to the other. As it is, Sprout and Snape have both agreed to award you both a loss of twenty points and detention for your belligerence. I'm sure they'll inform you of its details tomorrow morning." The matron screwed the lid back onto the salve and examined her charge with a fresh eye. "Do you need a dreamless sleep to help you back into unconsciousness or will you resume your battle as soon as my back turns?"

"I won't try to fight her again," Daphne failed to keep the satisfied smile off of her face. "I already beat her, didn't I?"

Pomfrey exhaled sharply and rose from her chair. "If I hear so much as a peep from either one of you, those detentions will be tripled in length." She stalked to her office, extinguishing the candles as she went. The office door closed after her.

Daphne fell back against the bed. Narcissa was going to kill her. The gossip mill would no doubt have a whole story cooked up tomorrow. A reason for the missing points would have to be crafted, and when the two groups who had absent bunkmates worked it out? The lonesome, haughty badger and the mentally deranged snake; both out of their rooms, _someone_ would discern they had fought.

As she stared at the ceiling, she heard a faint rustling noise. A patch of space next to Granger's bed shimmered and folded to reveal none other than Holly Potter.

Daphne bent her eyelids close to peer through the slits as Holly cast a silencing charm. The redhead turned her head and stared at her with a careful eye.

She relaxed her muscles and methodically raised her chest up and down to give the appearance of sleep. A minute ticked by. Then two.

Satisfied, the lion turned and motioned to the space above Granger. _What the…_

Daphne shuddered as the shimmer she saw during her duel fell into view. It was a big gray creature, with emancipated skin which looked as if it had been decomposing for centuries. Long claws and curved horns confirmed her immediate thoughts. _The bitch has a __**demon**__ attached to her?!_

No wonder Granger was so drained throughout their battle. Her magic was busy trying to sustain her little buddy in addition to powering her spells. What had Granger been thinking?

She watched as Potter lifted the invisibility cloak and passed it to the demon. It accepted the offer and flicked the cloth over itself, disappearing beneath the sheet and vanishing from sight.

Potter gave her a final glance and took careful steps back to the hospital doors. She tugged the left one open and slipped out.

Daphne wasted a few minutes to process what she had witnessed. She needed to plan for the blowout of her fight, plan how to respond to this precious gleam of knowledge.

Slowly, fatigue overtook her. The strength replenisher took its toll, and the lack of a Pepper Up meant her energy was sapped for her core's repairs instead of replenished alongside her magic. She returned to sleep with an avid reluctance.

Her dreams were mercifully blank.

* * *

**Apotropaic magic is a real cultural phenomenon focused on methods of turning away curses and bad luck. Basically, the magic of good luck charms. (Horseshoe orientation, knock three times to dispel a statement of storms, turn away the evil eye, etc.)**

**The runes Daphne uses are based in Futhark, also known as Elder Futhark, and was a Germanic Runic system until the Anglo-Saxons took it as their own means of writing later on. The rune she writes is the word 'unda', or 'ripple'. Being a language vaguely based in Latin, I went with the Latin translation for ripple and then converted the runes in the **_**Insert **_**feature. Unfortunately, that didn't work when I uploaded it, so… no images of runes.**

* * *

**Boredguy's Grimoire:**

**Mobiliarbus: Levitation spell specifically crafted for moving wood.**

**Corticibus Lignorum: Wood to cork; Transfiguration incantation that turns any wood into cork wood. Hermione went the extra mile and transfigured the wood sharps into actual wine corks.**

**Runic casting; Futhark; Unda: Ripple, causes the inscribed surface to systematically ripple in a pattern similar to a drop of water in a puddle.**


	12. Binding Ties

**Chapter Twelve: Binding Ties**

* * *

**A great source of fiber.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Hermione wasn't permitted to leave the hospital wing until the following afternoon. Madam Pomfrey wanted to make absolutely sure nothing was wrong with her. Her tests sought to measure and evaluate Hermione's apparently "lower-than-average" magical core, although the matron's efforts proved fruitless.

"I told her all I needed to do was recharge," Hermione muttered to herself as she and Cress traversed the castle. She missed a full day of classes to mollify the nurse. It was insulting.

She slipped into her place at the Slytherin table as students filled the benches. Lily and Millicent gave her small smiles, and Draco glanced at her before he focused on his plate.

"How's the face, Granger?" Pansy smiled nastily from her place across the table.

"Fine," replied Hermione. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Don't play innocent. The whole school knows about your duel with the Greengrass heir." She gestured with her arm, nearly knocking Vincent's pumpkin juice into his roast beef.

"I'm surprised Pomfrey bothered to fix the damage." Tracey snarked. "I'm sure her spells did a wonder on your looks."

Hermione ignored them as she spooned more mashed potatoes onto her plate. "What makes you think Daphne and I were in a duel?"

"Greengrass's housemates said neither of you returned last night. And since Pomfrey wasn't here during any meals until now, she must have busy taking care of someone. Add the sudden disappearance of House Points and Sprout's warning against dueling to the badgers at breakfast, that suggests the two people of interest must have fought." Pansy gave a victorious smirk.

"And we know Greengrass won since she was seen during lunch." Tracey chimed in.

Hermione remained silent. Their deductive skills were superb. Her respect for Professor Sprout was diluted. _Did she not realize a lecture on dueling would give the game away?_

"Miss Granger." She started and turned in her seat to see her head of house behind her. "Meet me in my office after dinner so we can discuss your actions." At her nod, Professor Snape flashed his robes and returned to his place at the staff table.

Hermione ignored her housemates for the rest of the meal, her focus occupied on collecting her thoughts. If Pansy and Tracey were able to work out what happened, the rest of the school undoubtedly had the same ideas. And she still needed to visit each of the classes she missed and collect her work. And then there was the matter of returning Holly's cloak…

_One problem at a time. _She finished her plate and stepped away from the table, walking carefully along the quickest path to the Potions laboratories.

* * *

Professor Snape's office was located in the dungeons a few rooms down from the Potions room he taught in. Most of the room hid underneath long tables full of potion tools and ingredients. Several cabinets stood at attention like soldiers off to the side, brimming with the man's personal larder.

"Professor Snape?" she called out.

"Back here."

Hermione ascended the small staircase in the back of the room and walked through the open door. "Sit." Professor Snape commanded from his place behind the desk.

Hermione sat.

Professor Snape waved his wand, lifting the multitude of books scattered across his desk into the air. The majority settled themselves on a green-velvet trunk to the right of him, while a few encased themselves within cabinets on the walls.

Professor Snape's black eyes examined her as she took in the rest of his room. A banner supporting the crest of their house hung behind him, and an abundance of parchment—assignments, no doubt—sat in neat piles on top of another trunk. A few alchemy materials sat on a bone-white desk behind the man, alongside a shallow stone basin covered in runes.

"Miss Granger," Her attention refocused on her Head of House. "As I am sure Madam Pomfrey has told you, your actions last night were reprehensible to the extreme. Dueling is an activity never to commit within Hogwarts outside of the Dueling Club and emergencies." He looked down his hooked nose at her. "And as I said at the beginning of the year, the most important rule within Slytherin is that you are not caught. Do you remember this conversation?"

"Yes, sir."

He nodded. "Then you remember that I also told you I would never refuse punishments upon those who are caught. As such, I did not fight Professor Sprout's suggestion of docking twenty points from you, nor her assignment of detention. It will be held this Friday, with Professor Hagrid, from seven to nine in the evening. You will complete the assignments he provides you quickly and without complaint. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Professor Snape studied her for a moment. "Now, one method used to assess dubious situations like these is to view your memory, with your permission."

Hermione kept the confusion off her face. "My memory, sir?"

"The stone device behind me is called a pensieve. They are used in viewing memories through a third-person perspective to gain understanding as to how the events of an incident occurred." His black eyes watched her carefully as she tilted her head. "Miss Greengrass has already admitted to 'beating' you in your duel with her, but I would still prefer to see the full course of events from the moment you crossed paths with her."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Will you experience every sensation throughout the memory, Professor? Feel what I feel; that sort of thing? Or will you only see what happened, as if you were watching a play from a seat in the audience?"

"The experience is more akin to watching a play than a direct assumption of your being." Replied the professor. "Do not think you must provide your memory for me, Miss Granger. If you have doubts about doing so, then I will readily accept your refusal."

Hermione thought about it. If he were to find out about Cress, there was no guarantee he wouldn't react poorly to the fact that there was a demon within Hogwarts. On the other hand, she could provide the memory and then soothe any questions with lies…

"I can provide it," she decided. "Er, how do I do that, exactly?"

"Keep the event at the forefront of your mind." Professor Snape pointed his wand at her. "I will rest my wand against your temple, and pull a copy of the memory from your head. It will cause slight pain in your temple, but it will soon pass."

Hermione nodded and concentrated, keeping her eyes open. "Ready when you are, Professor."

The tip of Professor Snape's wand grew nearer and nearer. She felt the tip poke against her forehead as a dull ache flared to life.

The wand drew away from her slowly. As it did, a shimmering silver plasma was pulled with it, drawing further away from her. The pain increased as the tendril of memory grew longer and longer, and then it stopped.

Professor Snape carefully moved the memory from his wand to the pensieve. He lowered the strand of memory into the bowl and it billowed out like ink. Her memory filled within the bowl and the liquid shone with a bright, silvery-white light.

Professor Snape glanced at her. "Do you want to accompany me into your memory?"

"I've already seen it, Professor." She crossed her legs and relaxed in her chair. "If it's alright with you, I'll wait here until you return."

Professor Snape gave her a calculated look. "Don't touch anything," he said curtly. He focused back on the pensieve and leaned into it, almost as if he were trying to dip his face into a bowl f water. Closer, closer, and then his body gave a fantastic lurch and flipped down into the liquid.

"What now?" Cress asked, still secure from underneath the invisibility cloak. "He's going to see me block the fire from last night, he's going to see when I punched her in the head!"

"No, he isn't," Hermione smiled. "You stayed cloaked throughout the entire time we spent inside that room. I never saw you once, and every time we spoke it was too quiet to hear. Unless he stands right beside me for the entirety of the fight, he won't see you once."

"And how are you going to explain the fire?" demanded Cress.

Hermione shrugged. "Being an untrained witch, I suppose it would have to be accidental magic. The emotion within the room was high, I was under duress… textbook accidental magic. After all, what else could it possibly be?" She asked in a falsely curious and confused voice.

"That might work, then," Cress grumbled. "I'm surprised he wants to see our memories. If he isn't going to reduce our punishment, then what's the point?"

Hermione tapped a finger on her chin. "He probably just wants an account of what happened. Unless he's comparing Daphne's story to mine, but I doubt she would be willing to provide her memories. She's too secretive."

The pair sat in silence until the form of Professor Snape flipped back out from the Pensieve. He landed on his feet and stumbled for a brief second. "I hate that part," he muttered.

"Professor?" Hermione asked, making no move to rise. "Are you alright?"

Professor Snape stood and took his seat behind the desk. "Your concern is appreciated Miss Granger, if unnecessary." He laid his wand on his desk and looked across at her. "Your memory shows you watched Miss Greengrass let out her anger and then antagonized her into attacking you." He raised his hand in a preemptive motion to silence her and raised an eyebrow when she did not speak. "I took note of her attempts to provoke you as well, do not worry. You then fought with her for a brief period until the point she rendered you unconscious."

"Yes, sir," Hermione responded.

Professor Snape nodded. "Thank you for providing me a look at what happened, Miss Granger. Is there anything else you wish to disclose?"

Hermione tilted her head to the left and turned her eyes to the ceiling. "I was wondering why Daphne's fire spells never seemed to reach me all the way when we fought." She swiveled her eyes from the ceiling back to her Head of House. "Do you have any ideas, Professor? The most logical reason I could think of was accidental magic."

Professor Snape looked at her with his mouth slightly opened. "That would be my guess." He said slowly after a minute. "It's possible for accidental magic to still occur well into adulthood if a person is put under enough duress."

Hermione furrowed her mouth as if she were in thought. "That's all then, Professor."

He nodded at her. "Remember, your detention is at seven on Friday. Meet with Hagrid and me at the staff table, and he shall take you to your assignments. Good night."

"Good night, Professor," Hermione replied as she made for the door. It shut behind her without a sound.

* * *

Holly shuffled her hands aimlessly around the rough table. Their Herbology lesson focused on rosemaryne, a small plant that looked like a cross between a pine tree and an iris flower. The plants were known for their ability to produce a kind of saltwater dew, something they were supposed to be busy collecting.

"A little help would be nice," her partner snarked.

Holly broke from her reverie to see the unamused face of Daphne Greengrass staring at her. "Sorry,"

Daphne struggled to contain a sigh. "Stop daydreaming and go ask Sprout for another batch. Our beaker's almost done." Holly thought she heard a quiet 'no thanks to you' stem from underneath Daphne's breath, but she chose to ignore it.

She set the next tub of rosemaryne on the table. Daphne ignored her return beyond reaching for another plant and resuming dew collection.

After a few minutes of silence, the Hufflepuff spoke. "If you're going to say something, say it."

Holly waited until Professor Sprout walked out of hearing range. "I know you were awake when I snuck into the hospital wing."

"What about it?" Daphne replied, squeezing the stem of the plant to extract more dew.

Holly lowered her voice. "I know you saw Hermione's familiar and my… blanket."

Daphne didn't pause. "I'm surprised you're willing to talk about that in public."

"Imperturbable Charm," Holly tapped the table next to her wand. "So why exactly haven't you… told anyone about it?"

"Because it's not my business." The black-haired girl responded. She picked another spring of rosemaryne and held it over their beaker. "And nobody's threatened me for the information or attempted to bribe it out of me, so there isn't any point in telling people."

Holly watched as she continued to work. "So hypothetically," she began. "If someone offered to pay you for any information you have on me…"

"I'd tell them about it?" Daphne looked up from their assignment, directly into Holly's eyes. The girl shrugged. "Maybe."

Holly blinked in surprise as the girl turned her attention back to the plants. "What if I were to buy your silence on that matter?"

Daphne's hands froze for the first time. "And how would you do that? I already have access to a literal fortune."

"I could promise a deal that I would endorse your shipping company whenever needed," Holly suggested. Daphne rose her head to look at her again. "I can't exactly do it right now—I don't have any real reason too," Holly clarified. "But once I'm older, and rubbing elbows with the people who do have need of it—"

"You'd drop my name as the best one in Britain?" Daphne narrowed her eyes. "Is that all you have to offer?"

"Uh, yeah," Holly said stupidly.

Daphne examined her face and nodded. "Deal. Anything else?"

"Is that a serious question?" Holly asked.

Daphne snorted. "It was sarcasm, Potter. Help me finish filling this."

After completing their task and presenting the beaker to Professor Sprout, the pair were let out early. "Is there any particular reason you're walking alongside me?" Daphne asked as they crossed the western courtyard.

Holly stared at her. "Um, because I'm heading to the library to work on Sprout's assignment." She tapped her fingers on her bag's strap as Daphne raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you want to work on it together?"

"Look," Daphne said wearily. "Just because I'm agreeing to our negotiations doesn't mean we're suddenly friends. I like my privacy, and I can respect yours if you'll respect mine." Her robes fluttered at her turn as she stalked away.

"Okay then," Holly muttered to herself. "That's a no on a new study buddy. Yeesh."

* * *

Daphne expected a lot more backlash about her duel with Granger than what she received. The school reacted with disinterest for the most part. Once the duelists' houses discovered who was to blame for the missing house points, the matter was essentially dropped. Her housemates treated her no different from how they did previously. Whether this was due to fear or disinterest, she didn't know. It didn't matter.

The only person who gave her any grief over her duel was Hannah. Her lecture about 'appearances' and 'propriety' nearly rivaled Narcissa's. At least she hadn't carried an air of exasperation in speech. Narcissa's interruptions of 'patience wearing thin' and the like caused her to incinerate the paper on the mere principle of taking too long.

On Friday evening, she waited in her seat until the Great Hall emptied. Aside from her and Granger, the Weasley twins were also present for their detention of the week. She tuned out McGonagall and Filch as she stepped up to join Snape, Sprout, and Hagrid.

Granger's footsteps fell into place behind her. "Now then," Sprout began. "The pair of you will be working to clear out the tunhoof along the North bank of the Black Lake. Without Magic. Hagrid will be monitoring to make sure you two follow that particular rule."

"He will also ensure that neither of you tries to hex each other during this task." Snape flicked his gaze lazily between her face and Granger's. "Any attempt to do so will result in a second detention. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Granger replied immediately. Daphne rolled her eyes and gave a mock salute.

"Follow me, then." Hagrid nodded at them. "Time to get started."

As they followed the enormous man through the halls, Daphne broke the silence. "Other than 'teaching us a lesson', why are we removing a magical plant we have no experience with from the ground?"

Hagrid snorted. "Firs' of all, it's not a magical plant. Tunhoof's nothin' more than a devil of a vine—attracts kelpies. Tha's why they call it 'gill on the ground'. Dumbledore wants it cleared out befer any kelpies start nestin' in the Lake. And befer yeh complain abou' havin' to do it by hand, magic will shake the plant more and spread more pollen an' whatnot."

Their procession stopped outside the man's hut. "Back in a jiff," Hagrid told them as he headed into his house.

Daphne frowned as the hut's door closed. "You'd think he'd be more prepared."

"It could be worse," Granger commented. "We could be stuck with Filch."

_I suppose._ She refused to agree with Granger out loud, but her point _was_ valid.

The door opened and a great black boarhound burst on the lawn, barking excitedly. It bounded towards them before noticing Hermione and stopping stiff.

"He must really not like yeh." Puzzled Hagrid as he stepped from his shack. An oversized crossbow graced his arms, and a small lantern hung from his belt. The green glow reminded her of the fireflies from when they first arrived. "Alright, let's go."

Daphne fell in step behind Granger as Hagrid led the way to the lakeshore. The black water lapped gently against the bank, mingling with the sounds of frogs and crickets.

Hagrid opened the lantern, releasing the flood of fireflies into the night air. "Here yeh are," the man said as he handed them each a cultivator and a sack. "This is it right here." He bent down and ripped a string of the plant from the dirt. "Lemme know if yer sack's full; I got plenty. Fang an' I'll be watchin' the pair of yeh, so best get started."

Granger silently turned and dropped to her knees. At Hagrid's expectant gaze, Daphne joined her.

Nearly an hour later they hadn't managed to clear out half the tunhoof. Daphne kept her mind focused on the mind-numbing task. Granger hadn't uttered a peep throughout their work, and Hagrid was of little use other than to check their progress. Fang contented himself to curl up beside his master, dozing to the water's lullaby.

The sudden thumping of hooves captured her attention. She moved her ears to the sound to see a great shape of a centaur emerge from the night's gloom.

The palomino-colored beast slowed his gallop to a short trot as he pulled up beside their watcher. "Hagrid," the centaur said.

"Lo, Firenze," Hagrid replied. "Wha' are yeh doin' all the way out here?"

"A unicorn has been injured," Firenze spoke in a cool voice. An attempt at level-headedness, although she could make out the glimmer of panic at the subject. "We need your skills to hunt the creature responsible."

The centaur glanced at them. "Now."

"I'm overseein' a detention now, Firenze." Hagrid protested. "Do yeh really need me to come with you?"

Firenze gave him a stare. "If it was a simple manner of injury, then I would not have searched for you. But the injury is grave. It was done with a blade."

Hagrid straightened. "Well…" he looked at the pair of them. "Do yeh think you'll be safe without me standin' here for a mite?"

"We've managed so far," Granger replied. "Go on, Hagrid. A dying unicorn is more important than us."

Hagrid sighed. "All righ'. Both of yeh, fire up red sparks if somethin' happens. I'll be back quick." He started jogging after Firenze's disappearing form. "Come on, Fang."

The boarhound disappeared into the night along with him. Daphne threw down the cultivator and stretched leisurely. "Finally, a break."

Granger glanced at her as she pulled another strip of plant loose. "We can't stop now."

Daphne rolled her eyes and stood. "And why not?"

"If we don't finish tonight, it'll be assigned again until we do." Granger raked the earth with her cultivator. "And I'd rather stain only one uniform."

Daphne watched her as she kept her pace. _No wonder we're neck and neck in class with that attitude._ She crossed her arms. "Can your little friend at least help us?"

Granger paused. "Who?" She asked blankly.

"Your demon-buddy?" Daphne felt her impatience rising. "I saw him the other night in the hospital wing." Granger was still on the ground, her head still bowed to the dirt. "Can't you have him burn all these plants to ash?"

"It would look like we used magic." Granger countered. "And no, he can't set objects ablaze at the shake of a wrist." She started working again.

Daphne watched her resume the task in silence. "You don't have to worry about me saying anything about him, by the way." Granger's head inclined as if she had glanced towards her. "I promised Potter I wouldn't give away your secrets."

"What other secret did you see?" Granger asked tonelessly.

Daphne looked over the lake and turned back to the brunette. "Her invisibility cloak,"

Granger hummed. Daphne stared at her for a second longer before facing Hogwarts, her attention on the lights of the castle. Granger might have been a bitch the other night, but she was excessively blasé today. _A front of nonchalance._

Daphne's ear twitched. The sounds of the night interspersed with the gentle lapping of the water. But something was off. The sound of the Black Lake had changed. Very briefly, the pattern of the water broke its rhythm. Almost as if something had emerged from it…

"Don't move!" She hissed. Granger froze at the order, half-hunched over the tunhoof, in a movement of instant compliance. She didn't even raise her head to speak.

"What is it?"

Daphne inched her head to her shoulder. It agonized her to move that slowly, but precautions were necessary.

Her caution proved correct. Several torrents of water had emerged from the lake and hovered over the embankment as they coalesced. The liquid took on shape and form; stretching and molding two legs, a flank, a tail, a neck, and a head.

The horse shimmered in the light of the conjured glow-worms in a constant ripple of sea-green scales, almost as if the creature was made of kelp-colored jelly.

"Kelpie," she finally answered. "Shit."

Granger held her pose. It was eerie how still she was. "I'm guessing kelpies aren't something you want to run into, then."

"Yes." She searched her memory for the exact phrasing in the book she found that summer in the Malfoy library. "It's a water-spirit that can shapeshift into the form of a horse to hunt on the land. Omnivorous; infestations are generally discovered thanks to the returned entrails of human prey left on the water's edge." The colors of the kelpie changed in the corner of her eye, molting from a watery green to deep black.

"Do they hunt off of sound or smell?" Granger whispered. The kelpie bent its head low to the ground and tore a chunk of tunhoof from the earth.

"I don't remember. Probably sound; they usually pop out of the water suddenly to shock prey and then drag it down."

"So, no calling for Hagrid to help us," Granger concluded. The kelpie pulled another strip of the yard from the dirt. "Is the hide magically resistant?"

"No, but since it's a shapeshifter…"

"It can repair the damage quickly?"

"If the humidity is high enough, yes."

"And a fast runner, too, right?"

"Yep."

Granger hummed again. "So, the best course of action would be to wait and hope it doesn't notice us."

The kelpie's head rose up with another tuft of tunhoof. The creature swallowed the plant down and sniffed. The beast's tail swished as its ears laid back.

It looked directly at her.

"Shit."

The kelpie reared back and whinnied, pawing at the air in front of it. It balanced back onto four legs and charged.

"Roll when I say, then run," Daphne warned as the creature neared. Closer, closer… "Go!"

Granger rolled to the right as she dove to the left. The charging kelpie thundered past them, snuffling in confusion as it wheeled around for another pass, its hooves tearing up the soil.

Daphne's blood pounded in her ears as she straightened, flicking her switchblade out. She broke into a run as the kelpie neared and dove again, her hand spinning the blade to slash at the horse.

The kelpie huffed as her knife connected against its left foreleg. Water oozed from her cut as she rolled. The beast ignored her sudden disappearance and locked onto Granger, picking up speed as it lengthened its stride.

Granger watched the kelpie approach with a calculated expression. _The hell is she doing? _"Granger; move!" she shouted.

Granger didn't move. Instead, the shadowy figure reared in front of her and raised its arms.

With a high-pitched roar, her demon caught the charging beast. One hand caught the kelpie around the neck, the other caught hold of an elbow. The power of the kelpie's charge forced the shadow back, but it dug heels in through sheer force. The demon raised the creature into the air and slammed it into the dirt on its side. The kelpie stilled, winded.

"How do we stop it?" Granger shouted as she hurried to join her.

Daphne combed through her memory, trying to remember. _If a kelpie were to appear without any tack upon it, the beast can be captured with a halter stamped with a cross._ "Not in any way we can make use of." She pointed her wand into the sky. "Coruscant Rubrum!" Red sparks mingled with the green of the fireflies. Hopefully that oaf of a groundskeeper had seen them.

She focused back on the matter at hand. "I'll lure it, you punch it." Granger nodded and Daphne leveled her wand at the kelpie. The beast had returned to its feet, tail swishing and eyes swimming with rage. Its nostrils flared and it broke into another charge.

"Fulminum!" Three bolts of white lightning crackled from her wand and buried itself in the dirt. The kelpie didn't so much as flinch, charging through the bolt and rushing toward them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Granger's demon flicker as it moved into position.

The kelpie didn't notice the moving shape, too focused on her.

The demon struck, punching the kelpie across the face. The beast's eyes rolled as it punched again, hitting it in the shoulder.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Granger cast from behind her. The dazed beast floated into the air. Granger's demon took the opportunity and speared its side with one hand.

The shadow spun in a circle, one hand on the beast's hind legs, and pulled its claws out with a spray of water and a sickening squelch at the peak of a spin. The kelpie spun through the air and smacked against the lake surface in a magnificent splash.

Daphne sat down on the grass. "Good plan,"

Granger looked at the space in the water as the kelpie dissolved back into its lake form, disappearing into the depths of the lake. "Thanks."

Heavy footsteps behind them caught Daphne's ears. Hagrid was jogging towards them, crossbow out and strung. Fang bounded along behind him, letting out a stream of resounding "Yo-yo-o-o".

Hagrid stopped behind them, ready to fire. "Wha' is it? I saw the sparks." He lowered the crossbow and took in the state of the embankment. "What happened?"

"A kelpie appeared," explained Daphne. "We used the levitation charm to keep it from trampling us. Then I tossed it back into the lake."

Hagrid gaped at them, utterly bewildered. "Yeh fought a kelpie off with the levitation charm?"

Daphne shrugged. "It's not given enough credit."

Hagrid shook his head. "Well… why don't we call yer detention over then?" He glanced at the trampled tunhoof and shook his head. "I'll make sure a house-elf banishes the rest of tha' mess away. Come on back to the cabin, I'll pour yeh some tea."

Daphne summoned the cultivators and trailed behind the other two. "Don't eat the cakes," Granger whispered over her shoulder. "Hagrid can't cook to save his life."

The inside of Hagrid's hut was cramped. Aside from the usual disadvantages of a one-room house, the man had a curio wagon of stuff papering the walls.

She gracefully sat in one of the chairs as Hagrid set the kettle over his blazing fire. "Did you find the unicorn hunter?" Granger asked from next to her.

Hagrid sighed. "No. Me an' Firenze joined a couple of others in the search, but he musta slipped away when Firenze was fetchin' me."

"How's the unicorn?" she asked as he slid two mugs onto the table. If the unicorn died, it would put a powerful curse on the killer. Whoever had done it must have been desperate.

"It'll be alright," Hagrid shrugged. "The centaurs had already patched it up. 'Course, I'll still let Dumbledore know, an' Kettleburn as well. He knows more abou' carin' for magical creatures than I do."

As Hagrid pulled the kettle from the fire and poured the tea, Daphne noticed a round black oval in the fire. She glanced at Granger and inclined her head as the girl sipped her tea.

Granger gave her a minute nod and placed her drained mug on the table. "It's almost curfew, Hagrid. We better head back to the castle."

"Righ, right." Hagrid nodded. "Er, will the two of yeh be fine goin' up or…"

"Yes," Daphne cut across him. "Thank you for letting us go early."

"Not at all," the groundskeeper waved a massive hand as she stepped out the door. "Night."

As soon as they were out of range of Hagrid's cabin, she turned to Granger. "You saw it too, didn't you?"

"The dragon egg in Hagrid's fireplace? Yes," responded Granger. "I almost can't believe he'd try and raise a dragon inside a wooden house, but he did name a three-headed cerberus 'Fluffy'."

Daphne raised her eyebrows. "Cerberus?"

"That's why we're barred from the third-floor corridor." At Daphne's expression, Granger cracked a smile. "Have you not heard rumors for any of this?"

"I don't exactly talk with people."

Granger raised an eyebrow at her. "Here's what we know so far…"

Daphne stared at her bedroom curtains amid piles of scrapped parchment. She had started eight letters to Astoria so far, and each one she rejected for some poor reason or another.

In reality, she truly didn't want to share this information with her sister. Or, even more realistically, with Narcissa and Lucius. What he might do to obtain the Philosopher's Stone hidden within the castle was easily realizable: use his position on the board of governors to start an inquiry, confiscation, and 'unknown theft'. And then he'd have it.

She was surprised at how forthcoming Granger was. Knowledge was power, and the brunette provided a good chunk of it to her. Free of charge, even.

"_Why would you want to tell me all this?" She asked._

"_Because I know you are powerful. And powerful allies are hard to come by."_

_Daphne glared at the brunette. "I'm not your ally."_

_Granger critiqued her with an assessing gaze. "Your Holly's ally. And she's my ally." Granger rose from the bench they were sitting on. "I might as well hedge a bet and make you my ally, too."_

_With that, Granger turned and left her standing in the corridor. _

As her footsteps faded in her memory, Daphne thought over her words, a tiny smile on her face.

One could never have too many allies.

* * *

**Boredguy's Greenhouse:**

**Rosemaryne is based on rosemary. The plant's actual name derives from Latin's 'ros marinus', meaning 'dew of the sea'. **

**Tunhoof is an actual plant, although it's most widely known name is 'Creeping Jenny'.**

* * *

**Boredguy's Grimoire:**

**Fulminum: Lightning Bolts; releases multiple bolts of electricity in a forward arc.**


	13. Hatchling

**Chapter Thirteen: Hatchling**

* * *

**Your insurance claim for dragon protection has been cancelled due to non-payment.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

"Let me make sure I heard you correctly," said Holly as she cast an imperturbable charm around them. "Hagrid has a dragon egg, which he is trying to hatch, illegally, inside his wooden house."

"Yes," Hermione replied. "I figured if anyone could talk him out of it, it would be you."

Holly slumped against the table. "How close is it to hatching?"

"I don't know. I'm not exactly learned in this type of zoology." Hermione said. "He had it in the fire to keep it warm. We didn't exactly ask him about it."

Holly fiddled with her bangle anchors. "Okay. You stay here and try to figure out what kind of dragon we're dealing with. I'm going to go meet with Hagrid and see what other information I can talk out of him." Hermione nodded.

_Oh, to have a simple year of study._

* * *

Hagrid's cabin positively radiated warmth. For the first time ever, Holly found Fang sleeping outside, drooling on the radishes in Hagrid's vegetable patch.

She stepped on the doorstep and knocked. "Who is it?" Hagrid called.

"Holly," she answered. Hagrid cracked the door, pulled her inside, and shut it behind her.

"What are yeh needin', Holly?" Hagrid asked as he loaded some muffins onto a plate. Holly was too busy taking in the transformation of the cabin to respond. Heavy curtains blotted out the windows, the meats which usually hung from the ceiling were all missing, and the air was thick and hot, almost like a sauna. The black egg was still nestled in the roaring fireplace.

Hagrid followed her gaze. "Ah. That."

"Yes, that." Holly sighed. "I don't mean to pry, Hagrid, but where on earth did you get a _dragon egg_?"

"Won it in a game of cards in Hogsmeade," Hagrid said, a hint of pride in his voice. "I've been studyin' a couple o' books in the library about raisin' it, don't you worry."

Holly stared at him. "Hagrid, dragon breeding is illegal."

"Well, yeah," Hagrid said reluctantly. He perked up as he pulled his tankard off the wall. "But I've always wanted a dragon. Beautiful creatures, they are. Charlie's always writin' me letters about how his work goes in Romania, so I think I've got a handle on things."

"Charlie?" asked Holly.

"Charlie Weasley. Graduated last year; he moved out teh Europe and is workin' at a dragon reserve."

Holly contemplated this information for a beat of silence as Hagrid stoked the fire. "How close is it to hatching?"

"Oh, I think it'll be out within the week," Hagrid said as he grinned from ear to ear. "That's why I've got it so hot in here. The mammas breathe on 'em, an' the heat helps wake 'em up. Once it's hatched, you gotta feed it a bucket o' brandy and chicken blood every half hour, I think."

"Awful lot of chickens," Holly said.

"A bit much, yeah." Hagrid agreed. "But it'll be worth it. I'll send yeh a note when it starts hatchin', so long as you promise not to tell anyone abou' it."

"Hermione already knows," Holly told him. "She and Daphne both saw it last night. I don't think they'll talk about it to anyone though."

"Good lass," Hagrid beamed. "Run on, now. I need ter head back ter Hogsmeade for some more brandy."

* * *

Hermione thumbed through one of the books piled onto the table. _From Egg to Inferno: A Dragon Keeper's Guide _was a tad outdated (having been written in the fifteen-hundreds) but the information within was mind-boggling. Hatchlings had to be fed every half hour, and it would triple in size by the end of the first week.

Either Hagrid's research on dragon-keeping was very poor, or he overestimated how much he would be able to handle. She suspected both.

At least she knew what species the dragon was. Norwegian Ridgebacks were not the most aggressive breed of dragon in the world, but they were extraordinarily dangerous. Able to spit fire a month after birth, venomous fangs with potent poison, enormous size, and voracious appetite. It all mixed to create a dangerous monster.

"Researching it?" Daphne's voice rang from her right.

Hermione glanced up from the book to see the girl next to her. "Yes."

Daphne sat on the edge of the table. "To help take care of it or to figure out how to kill it?"

"To figure out how to be rid of it." Hermione corrected. "Holly's talking with him about where he got it. I'm trying to figure out what it is."

Daphne glanced at the rows of bookshelves to her right. "It'd be easiest to dump it in the forest and say, 'good riddance'."

"I doubt the centaurs would be happy with that," Hermione sighed. "Are you here to help me with this, or are you here for an update only?"

"I think I'll take the 'update only'," Daphne said dryly. She pushed herself off the table and disappeared into the row of shelves.

Hermione rolled her eyes and resumed her research.

* * *

She picked up her pace as she walked away from Granger. Why the brunette wanted to involve herself in the groundskeeper's blunder, she had no idea. Leave the problem to him and let the consequences fall where they may.

Her hand shot out to snatch the book out of the boy's hands. "Is there a reason you're following me, Draco?"

Draco feigned an expression of ignorance. "What are you talking about?"

She glared at him. "I saw you peek your head out. Is there a reason you're stalking me?"

"There might be, yes." Draco swiped the book back and returned it to the shelf. "Since you can't bother yourself to stay out of trouble, someone has to make sure you aren't caught being stupid."

"Did your father put you up to this?" Her voice was icy. _That slippery bastard better not try and extend his reach further, or so help me…_

"Mother did, actually," Draco smirked. "She wants to make sure you don't cause another incident. Not only will it reflect poorly on you, but it'll reflect poorly on us as well."

"I doubt the public opinion on your family can go any lower."

Draco squinted at her, tilting his head in disagreement. "What do you mean by that?"

Daphne stepped forward to put their faces nose to nose. "Your father might be one of the most powerful members of the Wizengamot, but he's not a shining leader. He leads through fear; that particular form of admiration is so easily toppled." She smiled sickly at him. "A former Death Eater wouldn't want any rumors about dark objects in his possession to spring up, would they?"

"My father was acquitted." Draco's jaw tightened. His temper was beginning to leak onto his face. "And you aren't to be starting any rumors about my family. You need us."

"I'm sure I can find a replacement host family for my sister," she hissed. "And you're right. I'm not going to start any rumors. So long as you stay out of my way. Narcissa knows I can take care of myself." She wanted to shove him back into the bookcases, but she restrained the urge. Her words were enough.

"You need to better reflect your heritage in your actions, then." Draco sneered. He slipped from her encaging stance and sauntered off. _Bastard._

* * *

Holly's bangles jingled as she speed-walked through the bookshelves. Madam Pince's dirty look coerced her to slow her stride as she passed. Then it was back to speed-walking.

She collapsed into the chair opposite Hermione. "I trust it went well?" Her friend asked, eyes glued to the book in front of her.

"Oh yeah," Holly nodded. "It's hatching this week. He thinks he can take care of it because of an old student that's a dragon handler now has mailed him tips."

Hermione looked up from _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._ "What kind of student would want to do that for a living?"

"Charlie Weasley." As Hermione tilted her head, she continued. "I figure we can kill two birds with one stone if we ask the Weasley twins for help. They can write to him, and they know more secret passages around the school than anyone else. They'd have to know a way we could move the dragon to a good pickup point." She glanced at the stack of tomes on the table. "What have you found out?"

Hermione laid _Fantastic Beasts_ on the table. "I flipped through here for any more information on our breed of dragon. Nothing much that hasn't already been mentioned." She pulled a book with a blue cover from the stack and pried it open to a bookmarked passage. Holly scanned the pages as she continued. "Ours is a Norwegian Ridgeback. Venomous, fire breathing, and one of the larger breeds."

She set the book aside and opened another. "If we are to have it taken away secretly, we need to do so as soon as possible. It'll be the size of a small closet at the end of the month."

"So, we need to find the twins now." Hermione nodded at her. Holly sighed.

_This is going to be fun._

* * *

_Why did the founders have to make the castle so big? _Holly thought for the eighth time. She and Hermione had scoured the castle for the past hour, and the Weasley Twins had yet to make an appearance.

Her first guess was to try Gryffindor Tower. Hermione waited outside as she looked through the common room, but the only Weasley she could find was Ron. His annoyance at her interruption of his oh-so-important game of wizard chess with Seamus pushed her further from asking for his help with the matter. He could probably keep a secret, but he was too much of a dick.

And since he didn't know where his brothers were, they were stuck searching the castle manually. Hermione's idea to ask the ghosts if they'd seen them turned out pointless. Not even Peeves knew where his favorite partners in crime were.

"There!" Holly looked to where Hermione pointed and saw the twins walking into the entrance hall with Lee Jordan. Both twins had multiple grass and mud stains on their clothes, and broomsticks in their hands.

"The quidditch pitch," Holly groaned. "We should have thought of that."

"Fred! George!" The boys stopped and waited for the two of them to reach them. "Can we talk with you both?" Holly asked.

"Just us?" Hermione looked expectantly at Lee.

The twins looked at him and he walked away. "That trade deal for St. George is still on the table." He called over his shoulder as he disappeared up the stairs.

"What do you need, ickle firsties?" one of the twins asked.

"And could it wait until after we've showered?" said the other.

"We need more privacy first." Holly led them to the small room they had waited to be sorted in. She cast an imperturbable charm on the door as she shut it.

"Need help with a prank?" the left one asked. "We're a bit backed up with orders at the moment…"

"No." Hermione cut across him. "We need you to write a letter to your brother, Charlie."

The twins glanced at each other. "Why do you need to talk with him?"

"There's a dragon hatching soon," Holly told the two. Their eyes widened. "And we need a dragon handler to safely take it off out hands."

"Come off it." The right twin said.

"Who'd be stupid enough to try and hatch a dragon here?" said the left.

"Hagrid," Holly replied.

"Sounds like something he'd do," sighed the left twin. "We can write him, sure. He can probably have a portkey arranged to hop over here and back."

"Except portkeys to Hogwarts won't work. The wards will knock him out of the sky." Hermione said.

"We could have him key to Hogsmeade." The right twin suggested.

"But how would we move the dragon over there?" asked Holly. "I suppose we could row it across the lake."

The twins glanced at each other again. "We actually know a way out. Don't we, Fred," said George.

"There's a secret passage behind the fourth mirror from the left in the boy's bathroom on the fourth floor." Said Fred.

"It's pretty spacious," said George. "Plenty of room to squeeze a dragon through."

"Great," Holly smiled. "Can you write Charlie and see if he can make it over here soon?"

"Can do," Fred said.

"Count on us," said George.

* * *

Charlie's reply didn't arrive until Wednesday morning. The twins caught up with Holly as she left Gryffindor tower for breakfast.

"We've got good news and bad news," George said. "Good news is Charlie's boss managed to set up an international portkey for him to stage a visit home in two weekends."

"Bad news is a certain little brother of ours snooped in our stuff and found the letter before us," Fred growled.

"We managed to swear him to secrecy on one condition."

"Which is?" Holly grimaced.

"He wants to watch it hatch," George said. "Mind you, we wouldn't oppose seeing it either…"

Holly sighed in exasperation and ran a hand through her hair. "Fine, fine. You're all invited. I'll let you know when it's hatching."

The mail of the day brought the news. Amongst the hundreds of flapping wings and swooping owls, a tawny owl sought out her. It dropped the letter from its beak and flew back out with the other school owls.

The missive was written in Hagrid's rough scrawl and contained two words: it's hatching.

Holly shared a look with Hermione from across the room and sent a second one to the twins. They nodded, and Holly caught Daphne watching her with narrowed eyes.

During lunch, the troupe slipped out the front doors. "Why are they with us?" Ron grumbled at the presence of Hermione and Daphne.

"Because they're the ones who were actually invited." Holly snapped. She had no desire to hear the youngest Weasley whine about the people present for the activity he blackmailed himself into. And even if Daphne wasn't actually invited, she was better companionship than he was.

She knocked on the door and Hagrid cracked it open. "Blimey Holly, did yeh have ter tell the whole neighborhood? Get in, quick."

Hagrid's hut was a tight squeeze with six children, a demon, a dog, and a half-giant inside of it. Ron muttered under his breath about the cramped fit until one of the twins elbowed him in the ribs. The heat was more intense than before, and the egg teetered on the table; interspersed with cracks.

A scraping noise sounded from the egg amid a chorus of chittering clicks. The scraping sounded again, and again, and the egg split apart.

The baby dragon flopped from the ruined shell and gazed at them with bulbous orange eyes. Spiny wings protruded from its black and brown body, which shimmered in the firelight like hot tar. Its snout wiggled in the air as it struggled to its feet. Then it sneezed, releasing a puff of sparks.

"Blimey." Breathed one of the twins.

"Cool." Whispered Ron.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured.

Holly didn't say anything. Neither did Daphne or Hermione.

With the show over, the Weasley brothers made their leave. Daphne left along with them, her heels clicking on the wooden boards.

Hagrid tried to pet the newly dubbed 'Norbert' on the head. Norbert was apparently not one for head pats and kept snapping his miniature fangs at the man's fingers.

"Hagrid, I talked with Charlie," Holly said as the man offered a ladleful of chicken blood and brandy to Norbert. "He says he can arrange a portkey to Hogsmeade so he can smuggle Norbert back to his reserve."

Hagrid started, spilling the concoction from the ladle onto the table. Norbert screeched in indignation as his meal shied away from him.

"Bring him… to his reserve?" Hagrid asked slowly.

"He needs to live with his own kind, Hagrid." Hermione pointed out. "In a month he'll be the size of half your house. What if a student sees him? The Ministry would be called. The beast division and the aurors wouldn't even consider catching it with the proximity to us children—they would kill him, Hagrid."

Hagrid's eyes grew misty. "I know. I know I can't keep him forever." He sniffed. "You said Charlie would be able to take care of him?"

Holly nodded. "You might even be able to visit over the summer."

Hagrid nodded as tears dripped into his beard. "I… alrigh'. Alrigh', I'll do it." He sniffled again. "How are we going ter get him into Hogsmeade?"

"I've already made a plan," Hermione said. "Fred and George told us about a secret passage in the fourth-floor boy's lavatory. We'll pack Norbert into a box, insulate it so he doesn't set it on fire, and carry it to the passageway. Then we hand him off to Charlie, who'll portkey back to Romania."

"The only problem is entering the restroom. If it's like the other lavatory doors, it'll be charmed solely for that gender. The twins will be busy with their distraction, and you'll raise too many questions about walking around inside at night, Hagrid."

Holly smirked. "I think I know the extra pair of hands we can use."

* * *

Sunday night couldn't come fast enough. The two weeks past sluggishly, slowly turning the calendar from February to March. Norbert had grown to the size of a bedside table and was eating almost anything he could get his jaws around. Hagrid had switched him to rats instead of chicken, and Mozu was annoyed at the lack of midnight snacks left in the tower.

Holly checked her pocket watch from her place under the invisibility cloak. "Why do I have to help with this?" Ron grumbled from beside her.

She glared at him over her shoulder. "You wanted to be a part of this whole 'adventure', didn't you? Zip it." The minute hand on her watch ticked.

She stowed her watch. "Time to go." The twins nodded and headed for the portrait of the Fat Lady. Fred pushed it open and they slipped through in between the two redheads.

"We'll start the diversion in thirty minutes," Fred whispered to her.

"Don't get caught." She whispered back.

The two lions made their way through the castle. "Why are we doing this after curfew?" Ron muttered as they waited for Professor Quirrell to walk past them.

"Because it would be too hard to carry a thrashing crate through the throngs of students." Hermione's voice appeared alongside them as she slipped under the cloak.

"Where the heck did you come from?" Ron demanded.

Hermione smirked. "It's a secret."

They made it to Hagrid's house without passing another soul. Holly whisked the cloak off her head into her bag. "How are you holding up, Hagrid?"

"Fine." The man replied glumly. "Norbert's all boxed up already." He patted the wooden crate next to him. It shuddered as Norbert thrashed inside of it.

"I packed him a couple of rats and some brandy fer the journey." Hagrid sighed. "I'm goin' ter miss him."

Holly checked her watch as Hagrid blew into an oversized handkerchief. "Fred and George's distraction will start in fifteen minutes." She said. "We need to go."

"Bye, Norbert." Hagrid sighed tearfully as he patted the box. "Daddy'll miss yeh." The box shuddered in response."

"Ron, you take that side. I'll take the front." Hermione said.

"I don't need a Slytherin ordering me around." He glowered.

"Ron, just do it." Holly groaned at the insufferable boy. As the two lifted the crate from the ground, she threw the invisibility cloak over them. "There."

"What abou' you?" Hagrid asked her.

Holly activated her bangles. They hummed and spun as she smiled. "I can use these to help stay out of sight. But first… silencio!"

The hum of her bangles disappeared. "Rocketing and sticking charms will keep me out of sight of anyone we see." She turned to where Ron and Hermione had stood. "Ready?"

* * *

Holly peeked around the corner from her place next to the lentil. _I really should have brought something to tie my hair with._

She flipped her head back and gave a thumbs up. Ron and Hermione's footsteps echoed in the corridor as they moved through the doorway. Holly crept along with the stone ceiling ahead of them.

She checked her watch. Four minutes until the distraction. Perfect.

Moving through the castle like this was annoying. The floating staircases were the quickest path to the fourth floor, but there was nowhere for her to play lookout.

She was pulled from her thoughts as her feet came loose. She gasped and cast another rocket charm to flip her into the air. "Inhaero!"

Before she hit the ground, she blasted into the air again and landed back onto the ceiling. _Thank God I wore pants._

She crept around the chandelier to the hidden staircase they needed and motioned for the two on the ground to follow her. "Wingardium Leviosa."

The violet spell shot from her bangles to the tapestry. With agonizing leisure, the tapestry rolled itself up to the top of the alcove. Holly carefully stepped over it and crawled along the spiral stairwell. One flight… two… three…

Holly cast the same spell to raise the cloth covering their exit and froze. Filch and Mrs. Norris stood in the corridor, lantern alight.

"Who's there?" Filch demanded. "Thought you could sneak around after hours, did you?" He started toward them as Mrs. Norris padded ahead of her master.

"Back down!" Holly mouthed at the hidden duo. She crept backward along with them away from the approaching light.

_Fred, George, if you're going to set off the diversion, now would a great time! _She screamed in her head, her heart in her throat. The light from Filch's lantern grew closer… closer…

BAM! BODUM, BAM! BAM! A colossal racket echoed from the hallway behind Filch.

The odious caretaker stopped in his tracks. "What in the world?" He muttered. He spun around and limped toward the sounds as fast as his legs could carry him. "Come on, dear!" He called Mrs. Norris. She gave the entryway a final glare with her lamp-like eyes and bounded after her master.

Holly breathed a sigh of relief. "Come on." She mouthed at the ground. She straightened and the excursion resumed.

Ten minutes later they were in front of the correct lavatory. Holly walked down the wall to the floor, startling a portrait of a witch in a blue corset. "Okay, Ron. Swap places."

As the redhead emerged from the cloak, she took his place. "God this is heavy."

"What am I supposed to do?" Ron asked.

"Open the door, Ronald." Hermione sighed. Ron rolled his eyes and complied, mouthing 'open the door, Ronald' to himself as they squeezed by.

Inside, they rested the crate on the floor. Norbert's thrashes had lessened considerably over the course of their journey, but the dragon still possessed some energy if the shaking was anything to go by.

Hermione stretched while Holly walked to the row of sinks. "Fourth from the left, they said." The brunette called as Holly hefted herself onto the sinks.

"I remember." She felt the area at the top of the mirror for the small switch. It clicked.

The mirror swung down, nearly shattering the glass on the tap beneath it. The backside of the mirror made a smooth ramp to a dim tunnel.

Holly channeled magic into her bangles. "Lumos." The space inside each bangle shone with brilliant white light as she led the way into the tunnel, Hermione and Ron carrying Norbert again.

Their footsteps echoed through the tunnel as they marched through it. Nothing crossed their path except a few spiders, their legs clicking on the stonework. Norbert's tail thumped against the crate as they walked in the silence.

Holly swiped her arm through the cobwebs. "How much longer is it?" Ron whined in between pants.

"We've got to be near the exit now." Holly reasoned. Her arms hurt from holding them in the air, and she knew Hermione must have felt the same.

The passageway ended abruptly. "A dead end?" Hermione asked wearily.

"Can't be." Holly felt along the wall and found another switch. She pressed it.

Stone ground against stone as a portion of the wall slid forward and down. It must have started raining since they entered the passage. Light showers blew in the night air as they stepped down onto the grass.

The street of Hogsmeade were empty. Few buildings had lights on, their darkness contrasted against the yellow light of the lampposts.

"Charlie!" Ron called to a figure leaning against one of the closer posts.

The stocky figure pulled back his hood to reveal the trademark orange-red hair of a Weasley, albeit he was tan instead of pale-skinned. "Hey, Ron." He said as he gave his brother a one-armed hug.

"You must be Holly." He said to her as he held out a scarred hand. She shook it. "Thanks for helping us with this." She said as he exchanged names with Hermione.

"Don't mention it," Charlie said as he examined the crate. "Hagrid and I are pretty good friends. I considered apprenticing with him to be the next groundskeeper, but I found dragons instead." He tapped on the crate and Norbert growled.

"When's your portkey back activating?" Hermione asked as he conjured a metal handle and stuck it onto one side of the crate.

"As soon as I activate it, of course." He pointed to a small ring on his right hand. "She'll take me straight to the dragon reserve. And don't worry about an explanation of where it came from." He said as he pulled his wand from his pocket. "A friend in the Auror core helped fudge some paperwork for me."

Charlie tapped the ring. It began to glow with a light blue shimmer as he stowed his wand and grabbed hold of the crate with both hands.

"Nice meeting you!" He called as the light grew harsher and harsher. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

"Cool guy, isn't he?" Ron said as they entered the secret passageway.

Holly didn't bother to respond. The passageway closed back up behind them.

Soon they were back in the castle. Hermione departed for her common room alone, leaving her and Ron to make their way back to Gryffindor tower together.

Finally, she was back inside the portrait hole. She ignored Ron's mumbled "G'night" in favor of heading to bed as fast as possible.

_Thank God this mess is behind us. _Holly thought as she shoved Mozu off her pillow and slipped under her sheets. _No one will ever know._

* * *

**Boredguy's Grimoire:**

**Inhaero: Stick to; the sticking charm. It was never given an incantation in the books.**


	14. Taking Interest

**Chapter Fourteen: Taking Interest**

* * *

**You say filler, I say FULfiller.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

As the end of the year rushed towards Hogwarts, the school began to fester. Students and teachers alike felt the pressure of the season as everyone crammed the last bit of knowledge into their memory. The older years suffered from the shadow of OWLs and NEWTs, and the fever for first place in the House Tournament was boiling. Spring bloomed at the start of April, with thunderstorms shaking the towers every night. Filch was often occupied with leaky timbers, but that did not prevent his fuss over muddy footprints and wet coats. The few days without rain bore a fine mist over the castle grounds, marring out the renewed grass and green foliage with drab grey smears.

Holly left the blanket of mist behind her as she entered Greenhouse One. Since her deal with Daphne, the badger often reserved a seat for her so they could work together on class assignments. Today it appeared to be occupied with Hannah Abbott, so she slipped onto the bench beside Neville. "Partners?" she asked him.

The shy boy gazed at her in surprise. "Shuh-sure." He stuttered out, scooting along the bench to give her more room.

"Morning class," Professor Sprout clucked as she shut the greenhouse door. "You can put the gloves away; today's lesson is all notes." The class fumbled with their bags as they followed her instruction.

Holly sat back in her chair. Sprout was more open-minded than many of the other professors; placing greater influence on practical examinations than parchment exams. Her concern for care rather than memorization went as far as her presentations, her desire on answering questions they had rather than dictating a lecture on each individual plant.

"Now, this plant is one of the more dangerous in your year one curriculum." Sprout said as she unlocked the cabinet in the back of the room. "If anyone tries any sort of funny business today, you will be kicked out immediately and receive a zero for the lesson. Am I understood?"

A chorus of 'yes professor' sounded from the students as Sprout relocked the cabinet. She turned around to reveal a yellow plastic pot. Inside sat a pale yellow-green sprig with several sharp, dark green leaves. The leaves shuddered and began to curl around in midair as she set the plant on the table.

"This," Sprout cast her eye over the class. "Is devil's snare. A dangerous herb due to its nature of ensnaring anything in its reach, it then strangles and consumes the remains of all captured prey."

"How does it consume prey without a mouth?" Dean Thomas asked.

"Devil's snare is quite adept at waiting between meals. After the corpses decompose, the nutrients are fed through their white roots to provide sustenance." Answered Sprout. "Because of this, they are known to emit a rather unpleasant smell during the summer blooming season."

"Where do they grow?" asked Fay Dunbar.

"It prefers damp and dark areas." Sprout replied. "Because of this, it is not uncommon to run across it in shady areas with a lot of rain. The best way to clear out an infestation is to cast a spell based on light or heat." Sprout removed her wand from her robes. "Lumos!" The plant inched away from Sprout's wand as she pointed the tip towards it, the leaves curling inward and the stem bending as far away as it could.

As Holly scribbled notes, she noticed Neville's hand rise into the air. "Isn't it found in medicinal potions?" Neville said after Sprout nodded to him.

"Very few," Sprout extinguished her wand and returned it to her robes. "The ingestion of devil's snare has been studied as a remedy for epilepsy. Although the inherent toxicity of the plant has rendered much of the investigation into it unable to continue."

Daphne raised her hand. "What kind of toxins does the plant release?"

"Tropane alkaloids." Sprout shook her head. "The plant can cause powerful hallucinations and limits proper brain function. This causes some automatic functions like digestion and breathing to fail." She smiled at the assembled children. "This is why it is normally kept in greenhouse seven. Why the ministry has kept it in your curriculum, I have no idea." Sprout carefully lifted the pot and returned the shuddering plant to the cabinet.

"Now then, I have a couple of photographs based around how the flowers and seeds look…" Holly tuned Sprout's voice out to focus on Neville. The boy's quill scratched furiously over his parchment. He had managed to transcribe the entire lesson in shorthand, even managing to fit an accurate sketch of the plant next to his handwriting.

"Uh, Holly? Can you back up please?" Neville asked quietly.

Holly blinked. She hadn't realized she was subconsciously leaning over his paper. "Sorry," she straightened from his personal space to focus on the lesson.

At the end of class, she waited by the entrance as everyone filed out. He was one of the last ones, trotting in a tagalong pace behind Ron and Seamus.

"Neville!" She called, grabbing his arm.

"Yes?" He stopped. Ron and Seamus ignored his disappearance as she pulled him onto the grass to prevent them from blocking the footpath.

"Sorry for leaning over you during class. I was surprised at how well done your notes were."

"I'm really not that good at it," Neville admitted as they walked back inside the castle. "I only manage to do this for Herbology. It's the only subject I'm good at."

"Still cool," Holly shrugged. "And it's not the only class you're good at. Just your best one."

"When you consistently scrape by in your other classes like me, it makes it the only one you're good at," Neville replied glumly. "I can't get the hang of spells in Charms or Transfiguration like you or the others. And I've burned through three cauldrons in Potions."

Holly frowned. "Do you actually enjoy any of your other classes?"

Neville hesitated, then shook his head. "Not really."

"Well, there's the problem." At his confusion, she elaborated. "You aren't going to work as hard as you can if you don't enjoy it. People work harder when they are happier; and when what you are focusing on doesn't make you happy, you don't do as well in it."

"I guess that might be it," Neville adjusted his glasses as they entered the Grand Staircase. "Most people chalk it up to me nearly being a squib."

Holly looked at him like he had said he'd found a banana hanging from a pine tree. "Why do people say that?"

Neville shrugged. "My family thought I was one for the longest time. Apparently, I didn't cause that much accidental magic as a baby. My Great Uncle Algie took to scaring me so I would do something, but I rarely worked. And since I do so poorly in class, people think I'm a squib here, too."

Holly shook her head. "It's all about attitude, Neville. You need to tell yourself you can do the assignments, and you'll do better."

She could tell by the slump of his shoulders that he didn't believe her. "Thanks for the advice." He mumbled.

"No problem. Southern frog spit." Holly told the Fat Lady. She walked through the hole and toward the girl's dorms. "See you tomorrow."

* * *

Daphne stared at Quirrell as he attempted to lecture on wraiths through his pronounced stutter. It had grown worse as the year progressed, worsening alongside the professor's health. His skin had gone pale to the point of transparency at his joints; so much so the blue veins of his neck could easily be seen. He had thinned to the point of near-skeletal appearance, and his face had grown pinched and sunken in. His robes looked like they were too heavy for him to wear, and his turban wavered precariously with every step.

_Some undead body needs a sandwich._ She focused on her transfiguration essay, his voice a dull constant in the background.

"Now then, wuh-when a ray-wraith becomes a—ray-wraith, they origin-originate from the s-soul of a human." Quirrell spluttered as he clutched the side of his desk. "In the mid-mih-Middle Ages, this was thought to ha-have been a pun-punishi-pun-punishment for—m-misdeeds."

"Ray-Wraiths would—not be able to re-rest—until their—f-for-forgotten bus-businie-business was com-completed. Of c-course, this was m—muggle propo-propoganda meant to—explain the exist-existin-existence—of spirits. In re-rea-reality, wraiths are con-cont-cun-constructed—through a simple act of v-violence. The forcible removal of a soul—f-from its—body."

Quirrell hauled himself to his feet, his arms braced on the top of his desk. "Who—here knows of the un-unforgi-unforgiv-able c-curses?"

A few of the hands in the classroom went up. Susan Bones' did. So did Su Li's.

Quirrell nodded. "The m-most heh-heinous of those—curses." He bit out. "Is of c-course, the kil-killing curse."

The class was silent. Daphne raised her head from her Transfiguration homework.

"The curse—is hearse-harshly punished by the m-Ministry of m-Magic." Quirrell continued. "I will n-not be tea-teaching—how to preph-preform it. However—know it acts by rip-ripping a person's—s-soul from their—body. The process—is said to be—ex-excruciating." Quirrell shivered, his arms wobbling. "Many—hit by the—curse exp-experi-experience—too much pain—to suff-suffishy—sufficiently m-manifest as a w-wraith."

"If it is so hard to manifest, professor, how do we know so much about wraiths?" asked Cornfoot.

"From—y-years of study, of—c-course." Quirrell answered. "One of—my old—c-contacts studied one—whilst live-living in Alb-bania."

Daphne resumed her homework. She needed to research this "killing curse". _For purely academic purposes, of course._

* * *

"Miss Potter," the emotionless voice of Professor Snape said from in front of her. "Stay behind, please."

She gave Hermione a confused glance and waited as the room cleared. Only once the door had shut did Snape speak.

"At the start of the year, you asked me why I paused at your name." Snape's gaze was affixed firmly to the small vial containing her Alihosty Draught. "I told you there was no deeper reason beyond your preferred caster." He sighed. "I paused because I was reminded of your mother."

Holly waited for him to continue. "I do not know if any of my fellow staff have informed you of this, but your mother and I were friends when we were children. We both attended Hogwarts; although we were divided by our Houses."

"Slytherin and Gryffindor?" Holly asked. Snape nodded, rolling the phial in his hand.

"As we aged, the animosity between our houses grew too great to bear. And after some terrible mistakes, I shattered our friendship like glass." Her drought sloshed in the crystal between his fingers. Snape exhaled through his nose, his conviction tightening. "If you have any questions about your mother, I am willing to answer them." His head finally rose, his hair no longer covering his eyes from looking at her.

Holly shook her head. "None at this time, professor."

Snape nodded as the door swung silently open. Holly grabbed her bag and walked away from the classroom without looking back.

* * *

"Goddamnit, this is stupid," Daphne griped.

"You're the one who wanted an ear in the Wizengamot," Hannah reminded her, not for the first time. "You have to deal with it."

"I don't have to enjoy it," Daphne hissed. Hannah was kind enough to continue to coach Daphne without desiring any onerous return, but the Greengrass heiress had not expected the sheer size of what would be taught to her. The Abbotts saw no reason to prevent their heir's access to current government events, unlike the Malfoys. At least they were firm with Draco on that rule, as well.

Hannah had procured an empty classroom (approved by Sprout) for them to study the operations of the Wizengamot and to further teach Daphne how wizarding culture worked. Their lessons covered topics in a range from the study of current activities undertaken by the Wizengamot (summaries were sent by Hannah's father) to a weekly quiz on her family's genealogy. To ensure she paid attention, the Abbott heir would hit her with stinging hexes, a sensation she had developed an immense hatred for.

"Now, what bill has recently been pitched to the Wizengamot on the topic of Muggles?" Her tutor asked her from across the table.

Daphne suppressed a growl. They had reviewed this bill during their last session. "A Muggle Protection Bill was proposed by Arthur Weasley and Miranda O'Keefe. The Bill would ban Muggle-baiting and raise the penalty from a fine to a maximum of six days in the Auror department's temporary incarceration cells." At Hannah's waiting expression she flashed a smile. "That's everything."

Hannah gave a weary sigh. "Technically correct, but you need to remember the new classification of proof."

"The item used in the bait must be purposefully detrimental to the Muggle in question. Weasley and O'Keefe are trying to argue for minor annoyances to be worth the same punishment as intentionally harmful enchantments. The change is unlikely to be made, given how trivial small slights can be, although the addition may go through if they play from the angle of 'saves Ministry resources from the Obliviators'." She gazed at Hannah and kept her voice polite. "Is that explanation sufficient?"

"Good enough," Hannah replied as her pocket watch chimed. "Help me pack up, will you? I want to make sure I have good seats for the game."

"I doubt there will be any bad seats," Daphne said. "Hardly any of the Gryffindors will be there. Plenty of space in the stands."

Hannah rubbed the back of her neck and flicked her hair. "Why would I sit in the Gryffindor stands?" She asked with a nervous laugh.

"Why, so you could have some alone time with your crush of course." Hannah's face reddened. Daphne smiled wickedly. Even though she was not at the same level of friendship with the redhead as Susan was, the two were close enough that teasing counted as a sign of affection.

"I don't know who you're talking about," Hannah mumbled, dipping her brick-red face under her bangs.

"Whatever you say," Daphne said through curled lips as they left the library for the quidditch pitch.

* * *

Hannah did not get to sit with Neville in the Gryffindor stands. Despite their team placing last in the tournament, the lions had turned out in force to support the badgers in robes dyed yellow with the color-change charm.

Daphne abstained from cheering as their team entered the field. The game was pointless, in her opinion. Cedric was one of the best seekers in the school, evidenced by his consistent streak of wins. Unless he was taken out mid-game, their victory was assured.

Jordan's voice rang out through the microphone. "Gordon Fox and Jason Samuels as Beaters! And the Ravenclaw's reserve seeker, Cho Chang!" His voice was laced with confusion.

"Reserve?" Susan said. "What happened to Mkapa?"

Hooch lobbed the Quaffle into the air and blew her whistle. The game was on.

"Lance in possession, nice barrel roll around Stretton and Burrow… she passes to Corner… he races for the sink… and a drop maneuver hands it to Germaine… and he sinks it!"

Cheers rippled through the yellow of the stands. Even a few Slytherins joined in as the Ravenclaw keeper retrieved the ball.

"Wonder why they're on our side?" Finch-Fletchy murmured behind her.

"Because if the Ravenclaw team wins they'll be even further ahead for the House Cup." She replied, her head turned over her shoulder. "They're in a tricky spot between cheering for their own potential gain and cheering for their allies."

"Stretton in possession… short stop to avoid a bludger, pass to Davies... he guards against Lance's grab… and he's going for the shot… and it's in!"

The blue-clad students cheered as Jordan continued. "A near miss by Davies there, almost looked like he pulled the turn to stop too fast, but it was a clever move in the end to lure O'Rourke from the center rings. Hufflepuff in possession, heading down the field… close shot by Chiles; knocked the quaffle clean from his hands… Ravenclaw now in possession, a pass from Burrow to Stretton. Stretton closing in on the goal… he's thrown it, why's he thrown it?"

"Jordan…" McGonagall's voice warned.

"Stretton's early throw misses, quaffle's back in Hufflepuff's hands… Corner in possession, sweeping down the field with his model of the Cleansweep Seven, brand new model, very reliable… he ducks under Fox, who misses a bludger shot… a feint… Hufflepuff scores again!"

As her housemates cheered, Daphne narrowed her eyes at the two seekers. Diggory had moved slightly. He was now five-eighths away from his starting position, his eyes fixated for something gold.

The Ravenclaw reserve had barely moved at all. Her small, lithe body sat as still as a statue on the broom as her black hair whipped around her. If it bothered her, the girl wasn't telling. It looked like she wasn't even turning her head; instead staring straight at the same place along the green of the pitch grass.

Hooch's whistle cut threw her scrutiny. "Penalty shot for Ravenclaw; unlawful touch of the quaffle with the beater's bat." Her voiced washed over the audience with the aid of a Sonorus charm.

"Burrow to aim, he lines up and packs it in the left hoop. Score doubled up, twenty all; Hufflepuff in possession. Lance takes it down the field, no problem… pass to Germaine… false pass back; Lance fakes a throw, Page isn't fooled… And it's a raised pass to Corner, he shoots for the top hoop! Another goal for Hufflepuff!"

"Ravenclaw in possession!" Daphne watched the chasers weave along the field. "Davies has it, he's heading down… an exceptional overhead pull to avoid Chang, with a drop pass to Burrows… and it's intercepted! Corner in possession, he speeds down the track… the others are trying to catch up, and he's too quick… he shoots!"

A disappointed groan rippled through the stadium. "Page defends with a deft catch." Jordan continued. "She launches it back out to Davies… he catches, dodges a bludger… and a sudden dive? Why would he…"

Daphne knew why. In the seconds before Davies' dive, Diggory had done the same. Their seeker was forced to wheel his broom to the side, narrowly avoiding Davies.

She eyed Chang. The girl had yet to move, still hovering in the open air. She could've passed herself as a corpse for the stillness she possessed.

"After that blatant attempt to gain a free penalty shot…"

"Jordan!"

"Ravenclaw resumes possession. Davies has it, he passes to… never mind; interception by Germaine, he's leading it back to Page… he aims… she blocks, knocking it off the broom and… GREAT MERLIN LANCE COMES OUTTA NOWHERE TO CATCH THE REBOUND! SHE'S SAILING UP AND CURVING TO THE RIGHT… HUFFLEPUFF SCORES AGAIN!"

The crowds cheered at the maneuver. Daphne abstained in the celebration to keep a close eye on Chang. The girl still hadn't moved, her eyes trained to the blades of grass far, far beneath her.

_She's obviously waiting for the snitch. Clever girl; rather than spin circles and miss it as it flies behind, she's waiting for it to fly in front of her. _She vaguely registered her housemates cheering again. _With ideas like those, it's no wonder she's in Ravenclaw. I wonder if she has family in Asia…_

"Score fifty-twenty Hufflepuff. Lance is in possession, she swings lather low to the field… it'll be a hell of a steep rise to make a goal from there… she pulls up, waaaay up, giving Stretton the slip. Davies is coming up on her right, to intercept… and the ball goes to Burrows, knocked free by a bludger from Samuels. Burrows is heading back down the field… it'll be tricky getting past O'Rourke… and he dives? Swinging around, O'Rourke's ready for him… and it's a score for Ravenclaw…"

Her attention snapped back to Chang. The girl's sudden dive hurtled through the players, nearly ramming into one of their beaters. She leveled off in a turn and shot along after the tiny gilded blur that hurtled ahead of her. Diggory had cottoned on, and he raced after her, gaining by the second…

"THEY'VE DIVED! THEY'VE DIVED! CHANG SPOTTED THE SNITCH, SHE'S LEADING BUT DIGGORY IS CLOSE BEHIND HER! A CURVE ROUND THE HUFFLEPUFF GOALPOSTS; WHO'S IT GONNA BE?! DIGGORY'S NEARING, HE'S LEVEL NEXT TO HER NOW… AND THE SWIPE… WHO'S CAUGHT IT?"

Chang rose into the air, her hair a fantastic tangle, the snitch gleaming in her upraised hand. The Ravenclaw students exploded into cheers; the Slytherins applauded along with them as Jordan's voice rang over the microphone. "I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! THE RAVENCLAW RESERVE SEEKER HAS BROKEN DIGGORY'S PERFECT STREAK IN HER FIRST GAME! SHE BEAT HIM TO THE SNITCH! GREAT MERLIN!"

Waves of blue supporters had broken onto the field, clamoring wildly in a sea of thrown hats and screaming elation. Many of the elder Hufflepuff's shook their heads at the loss while the fourth years gaped, in disbelief their hero had been vanquished.

"We lost…" Hannah said in shock as the Ravenclaw team was lifted into the air and crowd-surfed to the waiting Headmaster. Flitwick's tiny body danced a jig in midair as his House celebrated. The team passed the cup to Chang, who held it high into the air to catch the gleaming rays of the sun.


	15. No Good Deed

**Chapter Fifteen: No Good Deed**

* * *

**If a kid screams in the forest when no one is around to hear it, are they really screaming?**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

The tumultuous rainstorms fled Hogwarts as the year proceeded into May. The rising temperatures resulted in more and more students partaking in the great outdoors, trying to catch the last few rays of sun before the harsh slap of examinations. The grounds bloomed with new life, producing green-tinged shrubs and flowers of every color within the flowerbeds. Bells of Ireland and purple iris bunches were stowed at the entrance of every classroom and planted in the courtyards. The library had become a veritable warzone, with Madam Pince relying on the banishment charm to force the particularly studious out each night. Even worse were the books; if one was returned late it would burst from your bag and bash at your head before flying from the room to return to the library.

Holly and Hermione received another invite to tea with Hagrid, which they accepted. Now that Norbert was gone, the cabin was back at a comfortable temperature, and Hagrid's collection of meats restored to the rafters.

"How's study comin', then?" Hagrid asked as he poured the tea.

"Fine," Holly said as she took her cup. "I've had to practice charms with my wand since I can't have my bangles in the examination room, but other than that it's been easy." She blew on her tea as Hermione made a face at the air above her, undoubtedly to a cloaked Cresswell. "Have you heard from Charlie about Norbert?"

"Sure have," Hagrid said. He gestured to a pile of mail on the kitchen counter, spilling tea onto the table. "He told me tha' Norbert's settlin' in fine… although it turns out she's a female, so I suppose it'd be Norberta now…"

"You're spilling tea, Hagrid," Hermione said.

"Oh!" Hagrid tipped the kettle upright and pulled a hand towel the size of a pillowcase from the wall.

"Well, the gardens look amazing from all your work," Holly said as he dabbed up the liquid.

"The flowers, you mean?" He said as he wrung the towel out in the sink. "They do, eh? Sprout's been helpin' me plant them; most o' my time's been stuck rootin' through the forest."

"Is something still after the unicorns?" asked Hermione.

"Aye," Hagrid said as he dropped the wet towel into the sink with a squelch. "Still got no idea wha's doin' it. I told Dumbledore, but the centaurs are gettin' more an' more annoyed with it."

"Strange he hasn't called the DMLE," Holly took another sip from her cup as Hermione continued. "The beast doing it would be captured with a proper manhunt."

Hagrid shrugged as he took a draft from his tankard. "Well, Dumbledore likes operatin' on his own terms. He'll probably call them in once summer's out; he doesn't want the Ministry pokin' around makin' people nervous befur exams."

"It isn't Fluffy, is it?" Holly asked.

"Course it isn't Fluffy," Hagrid chuckled. "He's sweet as a peach. Loves ter play fetch, an' besides, he's up in the castle, isn't he?"

"You don't take him for any walks?" Hermione asked. "A dog that size would need it."

"No, course not." Hagrid wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "He's doin' alrigh' stayin' outta the way. Best guardin' the… never mind."

"Philosopher's stone?" Holly asked.

"I'm not sayin' nothin'," Hagrid said, scrunching his lips tight behind his beard. "You two better get back ter studyin' soon. An' don't go messin' with Fluffy!"

* * *

"I can't believe how loose-lipped he is sometimes," Holly said from her place across the table. The library was silent around their table, the occasional scratch of a quill the only break in the silence. "I hope the unicorn problem is solved quickly. Centaurs do not like trespassers."

"Speaking from experience?" Hermione asked as Cresswell scratched sigils into the table's edge. "You never told me about that adventure."

Holly shrugged. "I met one centaur colony in Rome. They are extremely passionate about protecting their land, almost obsessive over it. When we met, it would be on their borders, on their terms."

"Then why take such risk infiltrating and slaying creatures on their land?" She tilted her head as Holly pulled out her _History of Magic_ textbook. "Especially if all the trouble is for unicorn parts, it would be safer to hit up an apothecary, wouldn't it?"

"You two go on, I'll meet you later." She glanced up as Daphne positioned herself in the chair next to Holly, her posse leaving without a word. Ever since their shared detention, she had been a distant shadow that merely slipped in and out of their group. The pureblood clearly couldn't make up her mind if they were allies or not; chatting amicably with them one day and ignoring them the next. _Although I suppose our alliance wasn't meant to be public._

"What's this about infiltration?" The dark-haired girl whispered.

"You remember how Hagrid was called to help with a unicorn halfway through our detention?" Daphne nodded slowly. "Whatever has been attacking them hasn't stopped, and the centaurs have become more aggravated with… whoever it is."

"The poacher hasn't been caught?" Daphne leaned back in her chair; arms folded over her chest. "Are the DMLE that useless?"

"Dumbledore hasn't called them yet," grumbled Holly. "He doesn't want to cause a distraction during exams, he says."

Daphne snorted. "Doesn't surprise me. The old goat has tried to defy the governor's board for years so he can maintain control over the castle. You should hear the stories Lucius tells about him."

"Poacher," she repeated. "Why would a poacher be here? Wouldn't it be safer to steal from somewhere far away from Hogwarts? A preserve, or something?"

"He probably knows how Dumbledore operates," Daphne shrugged. "It would be safer to poach from a wild population than a reserve."

"There is a black market for unicorn horn and hoof scrapings," Holly said. "Maybe even a market for their hide. I've seen their manes used as fur lining in Romania, too."

"Why are you two so concerned with this?" The raven-hair squinted at them. "It's not your place to investigate dark wizards. That's what the DMLE is for. Can't resist the call of adventure, can you?"

"Some of us actually care for others," She stared at Daphne, pleased at the tiny flinch in her eyes.

"You think I'm going to attend your little manhunt?" The Hufflepuff crossed her arms, her brow raised and her lips pursed. "No."

"It'd be worth a lot of house points," Holly said as she flashed a crooked grin.

"No,"

"You'd receive the same notoriety we did for defeating the troll," Hermione said nonchalantly. "I'm sure it would help gain the recognition you desire."

Daphne's 'no' was overtaken by Cress's garble. "You owe Hermione and me for disposing of the kelpie."

The badger's mouth dropped. Her eyes scanned the empty space around her. "You're calling that a _life debt?" _She gave up on locating Cress and stared at Hermione in his place.

"I don't know what that is," Hermione turned to Holly.

"No, we aren't." Cress's voice was frosted with amusement. "But you owe us either way."

"Not revealing the world about your existence wasn't enough?" Daphne snarled. She glared at the floor, poised to bolt from her seat. The silence stretched longer and longer. "I must be crazy. Fine. I'll help, ensure my investment in _you_." She glared at Holly. "What's the plan?"

* * *

Daphne scowled from her place at the end of their little conga line. Holly was first, the invisibility cloak tight in her hand. Granger was between them; and her demon was somewhere to their right, concealed under his own invisibility.

_Wish he could extend his concealment power to Granger. _There'd be a lot more room under the cloak without her.

They kept the camouflage over them the entire walk to the forest as her mind counted the reasons for why this was a bad idea. Crickets whistled in the night breeze under the moonless sky. Without a source of light, hidden roots and ghost holes made themselves more frequent appearances than usual, tripping the trio as the grass grew thicker and thicker.

Once they were just inside the forest, Holly pulled the cloak off. She folded the cloth twice and slipped it into her bag.

"So how exactly will we find the unicorns?" Daphne asked. She forced herself not to flinch as Granger's demon faded into sight.

"Simple enough." Holly smiled as her bangles whirred in place, emitting a butterfly blue glow. "Ducere In."

A puff of smoke emerged from between her fingers, curling as it floated deeper into the forest. "Lumos." The redhead whispered. The runes on her bangles shone with soft white light as they whirred around her arms. She stepped forward after the wisp. Granger fell into line behind her.

Daphne gave a final look at the castle. "Fuck me," she turned her back to the haven and followed the others into the woods.

The forest was black and soulless. The black trees stretched into oblivion; their green foliage barely distinguishable from the rest of their shadowy form. Curious blobs of moss and lichen peppered the trunks, and the grass beneath their feet ascended halfway up their legs. Shrubs lunged at their ankles as they crossed the thicket, with the inky curtain barely visible between the canopies.

The smoke wisp curled through the gloom as the group advanced in silence. In one of the trees above, an owl cooed.

The wisp floated continued to lead as the trees thinned. "Nox." Holly's voice slithered through the boscage. The white of her bangles vanished.

"Centaur," the redhead whispered. Granger's demon vanished as Holly fumbled to retrieve the cloak from her bag. Slows thumps approached and she almost dove into the bushes as the centaur emerged.

The human half of the beast was bare-chested, with a mid-thirties look to the wrinkles on his face. The stubble of a red beard decorated his chin, and the horse half of his body was a reddish-chestnut.

She froze as the creature trotted to their right, not even glancing at them. His head was fixated on the sky, and he stopped at the first gap in the canopy above them to stare into the abyss. Then he spoke.

"Mars is bright tonight."

Daphne snorted at the creature's obliviousness. Holly just shook her head and motioned at her to follow. They slunk away along the edge of the clearing, abandoning the beast behind them.

"What the hell was that? 'Mars is bright tonight'?" she hissed as Holly recast her spells.

The redhead shrugged. "Some of them like to stargaze. Some form of divination based on celestial movement." Granger's demon reappeared over the brunette's form.

"Annoyances," it ground out. "The only one who was ever even civilized was that Chiron fellow. Wonder if he's moved on to fulfill his constellation yet."

The demon floated back into line above Granger. Daphne made to follow them when she paused. A sound like a bell, drawn out in a single ring, echoed from between the trees to her left. It sounded a second time, and then a third…

"—aphne. Daphne."

The sound stopped as a hand laid itself on her shoulder. Immediately, her head felt fuzzy, as if she had been electrocuted. She craned her head to the hand to see Granger's face behind it, tilted to the left. Holly stood down the path, the light from her spells flaring.

She tried to swallow, mouth dry. "What is it?" She asked.

"You were walking away from us," Granger said simply, taking her hand away. "Did you see something in the trees?"

_They didn't hear the bell. _She forced her fingers to stop shaking. Her head felt like it was full of fog, a haze that ached in the base of her neck. "No. Sorry."

"Come on," Holly called. "The spell is getting away again." Granger turned and stepped along the trench they had already carved into the grass as Holly's form dimmed. She shuddered and stepped away from the thicket to follow.

* * *

The forest loomed on all sides as their march continued. By her estimate, it was twenty minutes since they entered the gloom. Holly kept track of the darting spell ahead of them, and Cress kept his eye on Daphne as they ventured further and further into the woods. Even if whatever lull the girl had felt before was gone, there was no telling it wouldn't return.

"There." She stopped as Holly pointed at the trees on the ridge ahead of them. A unicorn stood in the tree line. Holly's cast seemed to dim at the sheer white of the creature's flank, which shivered and twitched as the wisp spun around and dissipated in the breeze. "Nox," Holly whispered.

"Now what?" She asked as Daphne's footsteps sounded behind her. "We can't wait all night for the poacher to show."

"We'll use the same lure the poacher does," Holly turned to face Daphne. "A young maiden, pure of heart and all that jazz."

"You're joking." Daphne deadpanned. "I agree Faustie here shouldn't do it, but me? Why not you?"

"I have dark magic in me thanks to this." Holly flipped up her bangs to display her scar. "My body's been stained by it. You, however…"

Daphne glowered at them. "Fine." She pushed them aside and started toward them. "Hey, there… pretty thing…"

Holly winced. "Maybe I should have given it a go first…"

"Could I maybe have some light over here?" Daphne snarked as her form waded through the grass. "It's only the dead of night."

"Lumos," As Holly's rings started to move again, Hermione tilted her head. A thin shimmer had flashed in front of Daphne's head.

"Stop!" She stepped forward, quickly walking to catch up with the dark-haired girl. As the unicorn turned its eye on her, ears flicking, it whinnied and bolted into a full-fledged gallop, delving deeper into the forest.

"The hell, Granger?" Daphne snapped at her. "You scared it off."

"With good reason," she retorted as she lifted her wand. "Lumos." The shimmer shone even brighter in the close light. "There's something here."

Daphne squinted at it as Holly joined them. "It's a garrote wire." The redhead examined it closer as she continued. "Perfect height to catch a student in the face."

"Or a unicorn across the chest." Daphne stood up straight. "This must be how the poacher knows where to go; he waits until one of his traps go off."

"You think there are more?" She asked. _Stupid question; of course, there are more. _She extinguished her wand and slipped it back into her pocket.

"Well…" Holly muttered. "We should take this on down." She looked left and traced the wire to one of the trees, the grass swishing against her trousers. "Here."

She pointed at a metal spike that had been driven into the tree bark. The garrote wire wound tight at the point where the spike met the tree. The force from earlier successes had dug a thin wedge in the skin of the oak.

"I think I could pull it out with a spell," Holly said as she examined the spike. "I'll have to turn the light off again—"

"Tch," Cress snorted. "Move." He floated to the tree and closed his claws around the metal.

His arm twisted and the pulled was wrenched from the oak with a crunching sound. "Easy." He rasped and dropped the spike to the ground.

As they ripped the brother spike from the tree, Hermione thought she heard soft thumps. She tilted her head at the trees for any sign of a centaur or the unicorn. Nothing.

"Ducere In," Another wisp came into the world between Holly's hands. "Another trap awaits." She started after the smoke, Daphne behind her.

She strained her ears in the silent forest as she followed.

* * *

Holly sighed as they followed the wisp through the woods. They had dismantled a second trap and were now on their way to a third. Neither of the other three had said anything, and they had yet to come across another unicorn, centaur, or the poacher. Their legs whisked in the tall grass as they walked, the sound not unlike Mozu's slithers.

She yawned. "Nice night for it, huh?" She said over her shoulder.

Daphne looked up from the ground with an unamused expression. Hermione's eyebrows were raised, even if a faint smile was on her lips.

She turned around. "Back to silence." She muttered to herself.

Her spell floated around the bend and she stopped short. Her light vanished. "Oh, shit."

On the ground before her lay a unicorn. It lay on its side, one of its forelegs at an angle that screamed broken. The creature's mane flowed over the ground in a mother of pearl sheen, its flank heaving as it struggled. Wide, frightened eyes focused on them as silver-blue blood spurted from the laceration across its chest.

She heard Daphne and Hermione step beside her. "What now?" Hermione whispered.

"It was chased here," Daphne said, her eyes zeroed in on the broken leg. "The force was great enough to break a leg when it ran into it." She began to back away, back the way they had come. "They're coming."

"He'll see the grass trail." Hermione hissed. "Up the tree!" Cresswell vanished as she turned her wand on herself. "Wingardium Leviosa!" She shot up into the burrows of a maple tree. Holly did the same, taking refuge in a magnolia.

"Daphne." The girl glared at her from across the small glade, in the branch of an oak. Her knees were around her chest.

The whispers of legs striding through the grass echoed in the breeze of the wind. Holly didn't know if the others could see from their position as the poacher took another step. Swish. And another. Swish.

Swish. The figure stood on the other side of the garrote. His robes concealed his entire body, with the only skin visible being his hands. A black hood shrouded his face, with a swirling black mist inside that, clouding his facial features.

The poacher stepped forward, and Holly realized why she couldn't distinguish any facial features. The man's head was on backward. His kneecaps and arms pointed the way he came as he lurched forward in a spastic jerk.

Then his arms shuddered. They shuddered and twitched and snapped violently. She resisted the urge to vomit at the crack of his elbows shattering.

His wrists shuddered and she shut her eyes. Two more cracks scraped against her ears.

She swallowed and opened her eyes.

The poacher was on the ground, his shattered arms and wrists now providing the look of someone with a backward torso. He crept across the ground, his back braced in the air to spider walk under the wire and around to the front of the horse.

And then his head lowered.

Holly's eyes widened as the man bent to the carved cut of the unicorn. The beast thrashed, but he lifted a hand and it froze, its legs still in the air.

The head resumed its descent to the still-flowing cut and _slurped_.

She laid her head back against the tree, her mouth twisted open as the sounds of the feast beneath her began in earnest.

She gazed at the oak where Hermione hid as the girl's head slowly tilted left in fascination. Over her shoulder, Daphne's face was blank, the corners of her mouth turned down and her eyes locked in a gaze at the blood pumped from the fading creature into the starving mouth.

The figure rose sharply. Its joints restored themselves to normal as a ripple of thunder echoed from Holly's left.

_Not thunder. Hooves._

The figure fled into the shadows as an arrow soared through the glade and impaled itself on the trunk of an elm. "The garrote," she whispered to herself.

Swinging her legs off the branch, she pushed her palms forward to land on the ground. Pain shot in her ankle, but she ignored it to turn and wave. "Wait! Wait!"

The thunder broke into the glade as three centaurs emerged from the forest. "Wait for what, young murderer?" Spoke a dark-haired centaur with high cheekbones. "Wait until your blight has drained this entire forest?"

"It wasn't her," Daphne said as she dropped from the oak. The centaurs rounded on her as Hermione dropped from her branch. "You shot toward him, you nearly hit him!"

The centaur scowled at her and opened his mouth as the second, a centauride with platinum blonde hair and a palomino body placed a hand on his chest. "They are the foals we saw earlier, Magorian."

"You were watching us?" Holly asked.

"Yes," the third centaur, another palomino spoke. "It is unwise to let foals wander alone in this forest." He studied Hermione and Daphne. "I have met you two before, haven't I?"

"Hello, Firenze." Hermione nodded at him. "We're sorry for trespassing—"

"If you are not those responsible, then why would you stop our chase of the one who is?" Magorian demanded.

"I… I didn't want you to be caught too," Holly said as she pointed to the garrote. "This is what he's been using to injure them." She watched as the centauride trotted over to the wire. "We've been taking them down all night."

The centauride straightened. "There are more of these?"

"We broke two," Hermione said. "We were going to break this one when we found… well…"

"Is it still breathing?" Firenze asked as he trotted to the still-frozen beast. The spell holding it shattered and its legs fell limp.

Magorian's nostrils flared. "It is gone?" At his nod, he stamped his foot and turned away.

"Flipendo," Holly winced as Hermione's spell shattered the tree the garrote was planted in.

"You are students, then?" the centauride asked.

"They are," Firenze confirmed. "Ireope, will you aide in their return to the castle?"

Ireope's tail flicked. "I suppose I must," she said in a resigned voice. "Magorian?"

The centaur snorted. "It is not our business to run around like mares for stray humans."

"Then you may be our fore bow," Firenze said as he knelt his front legs. Ireope did the same from behind them.

"Er, no thanks," Holly said. She held out her arm to block Daphne from advancing. "We can walk. We don't want to cause you any further disrespect."

Magorian's ears pricked as the centaurs rose. "You know of our customs, Holly Potter?"

She faced him. "I do."

He studied her. "It will be faster for you to ride. He knelt before her. "Your behavior is most unexpected. For a human," he added as she clambered onto his back. Behind her, Daphne and Hermione did the same with Ireope and Firenze.

The centaurs broke into a gallop, plunging through the trees. Holly gasped at the sudden rush of movement and wind and grabbed hold on Magorian's quiver. "Let me know if it starts hurting you," she called into his ear as they hurtled past pines and boulders and the blurring green.

At the edge of the forest, the centaurs slowed to a trot. Holly breathed deeply from the rush and wiped her eyes. As she raised her head, her heart fell.

They were beside Hagrid's hut. And outside of it stood a venerable posse: the red centaur they had passed earlier stood beside Hagrid and Fang, his head still skyward; Hagrid's enormous crossbow was in his arms, along with a pink umbrella, the crook around his arm. Next to them stood another centaur, this one with a grey body, its hindquarters covered in black spots; Professor McGonagall, in garb that looked like a tartan dressing gown; Professor Flitwick, in a purple velvet robe; Professor Sprout, in flower-print pajamas; and Professor Snape, in his everyday attire. And in the center of the four heads of house stood Headmaster Dumbledore.

"Oh, fuck," Daphne muttered from her left as she slid off Magorian.

"What is the meaning of this?" the grey centaur shouted as he kicked his back hooves into the air. "Firenze, I expect this behavior of you, but from you, Magorian? Ireope?"

"Calm yourself, Bane." Said Magorian. "It was imperative we deliver them to the castle quickly."

"You would help those who tear our forest apart?" Bane retorted; his face twisted in fury. Magorian reared into the air.

"They are not the human that is responsible, Bane." Ireope soothed. "They were aides to the destruction—"

Whatever Ireope was telling Bane, Holly could not hear over the surge of the professors. "Why on Earth were you in there?" McGonagall shouted, her brogue peeking through her scowl. "Sneaking around the castle after curfew is one thing. But sneaking into the forbidden forest!? What could your motivation have possibly been?" Her nostrils flared. "The three of you are lucky Ronan passed you by and took notice!"

Holly glanced at the red centaur. His gaze was resolutely fixed on the sky above. She vaguely recognized Sprout's elevated voice lecturing Daphne, and Snape's quiet tones questioning Hermione.

"They were aiding us." Firenze trotted alongside her head of house. "They uncovered the injuries and deaths of the forest's creatures and sought to investigate." Holly saw Hagrid pale and turned her eyes to the ground. "They were dismantling wire traps someone has set throughout our forest and managed to catch a glimpse of the true culprit tonight." He looked down at her. "Holly Potter. This is where we leave you. Whatever punishments you incur, know that you have done our kin a deep service." He flicked his tail and wheeled around to gallop back into the woods with the others, fading from sight.

"Minerva," the voice of the Headmaster cut through the night. "Shall we adjourn this meeting to my office? Filius," the man perked up straighter at his name. "Return to the prefects. Inform them that they may resume their patrols. Hagrid, you may resume your evening."

Hagrid rose his head at Dumbledore's instruction. "Sir, I… I was the one who told 'em abou' the unicorns."

McGonagall fumed as Dumbledore bowed his head. "I had a hunch. But your actions," his twinkling eyes turned to Holly's. "Are not the actions under review. To my office,"

* * *

Dumbledore's office was as cramped as could be. A third chair was conjured for Daphne to sit and be scolded in, while the professors stood to either side of Dumbledore, each across from their house's pupil. Despite the headmaster's grandfatherly smile, Holly felt the night would not end with them unscathed.

"Please," Dumbledore nodded. "Tell us what happened."

They did. In turns, they did. Holly went first, explaining how they worried a poacher was harvesting items for sale on the black market, and so they decided to investigate. She left out her cloak when explaining their escape from the castle grounds.

Hermione picked up the tale, describing their meeting with Ronan and their encounters with the garrote wires. Daphne took the part of the tale with the unicorn and the figure. Sprout looked sick at her description of the man drinking the blood, and Holly resumed the story of how they met the centaurs.

Dumbledore sighed and removed his glasses. "The three of you have experienced one of the most dangerous ever to occur at Hogwarts. And, despite your information and help with the problem at hand, it was not your place to do so."

"Your actions tonight will not be excused." McGonagall huffed. "Each of you is to lose fifty house points." Her head shot up. "That's right, Miss Potter, fifty."

"We trust this will discourage you from further mischief." Snape said with a raised eyebrow. Dumbledore looked as if he disagreed with the high price, but he remained silent.

"That's not exactly fair—" Daphne argued.

"Fair would be adding a week's detention to the point reduction," Sprout said sternly. "However, we believe the points alone will suffice, given the praise from the centaurs."

Dumbledore twiddled his thumbs, as aloof as ever. "Goodnight, children." He said as he peered over his glasses at them. "If any of you require dreamless sleep to wash away the horror you have witnessed, a house-elf will deliver it to your room."

Daphne rose first, stiffly rising from her chair and walking swiftly out the door. Holly glanced at Hermione and followed.

"Daphne, wait," Holly called as they descended the spiral staircase.

The black-haired girl whirled around. "Why?" She asked, her voice flat and cold like ice. "Why? We didn't capture the poacher. We didn't avoid detection. Why should I stick around for any more of your ideas, Potter?"

"It's about the blood," Holly said as she glanced at Hermione. "I know why they were drinking it."

"Well, I'm glad you've solved the mystery." Daphne snipped. She spun on her heel and stalked away toward the Hufflepuff dormitories. Holly rushed to keep up with her.

"If someone were to drink unicorn blood, they would live from the most mortal of injuries."

"Don't care," she said; her tone blank.

"Poisons would vanish, damaged flesh will mend… it's essentially immortality. A curse of a half-life; constant erosion of your body at an accumulative rate, forever."

"Immortality," Hermione breathed. "Holly, what else in this school can create that?"

"That's what I'm thinking," she said as she kept pace behind Daphne. "The Philosopher's Stone."

"Flipendo!" Daphne's wand pointed at the floor. Holly staggered back onto her butt as the black-haired girl faced her, murder in her eyes. "I. Don't. Care. Take your mystery and piss off. I know curses that would be _much_ more satisfying to try out." She gave her one final glare and disappeared down the stairs.

Hermione glanced at her as they got to their feet. "If the person after unicorn blood manages to find the stone…"

"They'd heal themselves. Completely." She turned to Hermione. "Before the year is over, someone is going to steal it."

* * *

**In the language of flowers, Bells of Ireland represent luck, while purple irises represent wisdom.**

**Bane is based on an Irish Draught, the national horse of Ireland, given his de facto leader status (A vibe I always got from the books). Ronan is a sorrel-coat chestnut, Firenze and Ireope are palominos, and Magorian is a murgese.**


	16. All the Trappings

**Chapter Sixteen: All the Trappings**

* * *

****Reviewer Responses****

**Fast Frank: **High praise! Very much appreciated; I realized my first response to you could be taken as a bit dickish and I had worried that you no longer read my story. Apologies for that, and I'm glad you're still enjoying it.

**The censors wouldn't let us say b**by trap.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

As she dragged herself from her bed, Holly reflected on the situation she was currently in. Mercifully, exams were set to begin that day. The school year was soon to end, thank Merlin.

She unwound Mozu from her arm and opened her curtains. Keila waved at her, and Fay was kind enough to mutter out a 'good morning'. Lavender and Parvati, on the other hand, remained silent as the grave. _Guess they're still mad._

Gryffindor House was divided after her explanation for the lost points. Some of her housemates agreed with the centaurs that her actions were brave and noble, and that she proved the qualities of the House in a manner Godric himself would have approved of. The other third of the lions believed her actions were unnecessary, reckless, and not worth the cost. Although the constant war for second was still in play between them, the snakes, and the badgers; some had carried hope they could've pulled ahead of Ravenclaw in the final few seconds. Those hopes were now quashed.

Almost half her year-mates sided with her, along with the Weasley Twins, Lee Jordan, and the Gryffindor quidditch team (at Fred and George's request). Gaia was the only prefect to side with her, the rest joining Percy in his condemnation of her actions.

_I didn't even receive the worst of it. Hermione and Daphne are the two that have been beaten by the masses._

Hermione's place in Slytherin resulted in a carpet ban against her. Rather than maintain their earlier reluctance, they now saw fit to ignore her completely. Pansy and Tracey had taken to bullying her as often as they could manage. How they were exempt from anger at lost points they managed in their efforts could only chalk up to pureblood supremacy.

Daphne's fate was more in line with her own. While the rest of her house had ignored her for a brief period, they had all come around after the reason for their excursion made its way through the rumor mill. She hadn't spoken to Hermione or Holly since that night, and Holly doubted she would anytime soon. With her gone, she and Hermione were left to plan how to swipe the Philosopher's Stone on their own. Although they only knew about the ward and Fluffy, they figured Dumbledore's earlier lock charm meant the rest of the defenses couldn't be that great and would easily be bypassed.

In the final lessons before the exams, she had continued to partner with Neville in Herbology now that Daphne wouldn't speak with her. He was polite enough, although he often stole wistful glances at Hannah Abbott. Beyond that, he was an excellent partner, he shared his notes, and he even offered to review with her in the greenhouses before exams. Apparently, Professor Sprout gave out copies of the key to students she believed were trustworthy enough to deserve it. She would have accepted so she could nick some raskovnik until he mentioned running it by Sprout.

The day before exams they visited Hagrid for the first time since their night in the Forbidden Forest. He had apologized for piquing their interest and informed them Dumbledore was prepared to call the Aurors in, but the unicorn attacks had stopped completely. The centaurs had deposited about thirteen more garrotes outside his hut, and Hagrid guessed the centaur's arrows sufficiently spooked the poacher on the night of the adventure.

Exams began without any trouble. Both portions of her Charms exams were easy enough. Although she knew she missed a few questions in the paper, she knew Professor Flitwick had been impressed during her practical. The man beamed with pride once her performance finished and let loose a quietly whispered remark about her mother's competence in Charms as she left.

Transfiguration did not go quite as smoothly. While the written exam was an easy ace in the hole, her practical suffered from her admittedly less than thorough review of proper wand motions and the like. Her transformations of a glass marble to a spherical magnet and a carton of cigs to a box of matches went without a hitch. Her transformation of a dormouse into a snuff tin went less smoothly, with her third try succeeding.

The rest of her exams made up for her poor grade in that subject. Even though the astrology practical kept them stuck in the fierce wind (even once they had completed their star charts), the rest passed with blissful ease. She hardly needed to study for Herbology and DADA, which left plenty of time for her and Hermione to plan out how they would make it to the stone.

As she left the history of magic exam room, she caught a glimpse of their former ally swiftly walking down the hallway. She ignored Hermione's brief shake of her head and hurried after her.

"Daphne, I—"

"No."

"But I—"

"Zip it, Potter," the badger growled. "I believe I informed you last time we spoke that if you kept annoying me, I would cast something far more powerful than a schoolyard hex."

"Cool," Holly pursed her lips and ignored the frustration threatening to blow out of her. "I need a favor."

The badger spun around and kicked her in the gut. Holly sucked in a breath as the girl grabbed her by the collar and yanked her against the wall. "Do I _look_ like I'm in the mood for favors." The witch snarled; her wand out of its holster to point at her throat.

"I'll owe you one?" Holly said. _Engaging was a bad idea. Engaging further even worse idea. _"Please?"

Daphne's eyes shone could have been carved from zircon for all the emotion they displayed. She let go of Holly's robes and turned away. "What's the favor?" she inclined tonelessly.

"I need you to convince Hannah to convince Neville to let you into the greenhouses so you can steal some raskovnik."

"And why won't the failed squib help you?"

"Because he said he wanted to check with Professor Sprout when entering with someone else."

That had been the wrong answer. Daphne's eyes burst into flame as she jerked her head up. "And I'm easy collateral if I get caught, then?" She said, her tone dangerous.

"That's not what I meant!" She backpedaled. "Your friends with Hannah; he won't argue with showing her around!"

The fire in her eyes died a little. "And how am I supposed to tag along during their date?"

"With this," Holly pulled out her invisibility cloak and stretched out her arm.

Daphne stared at it. "I'm not going into the corridor with you."

"You don't have to," Holly said. "Meet us in the library fifteen at till nine, and we'll leave afterward. Okay?"

Her eyes flickered. "You're going to owe one hell of a favor," She snatched the cloak and went back towards the history room, disappearing around the corner.

* * *

"You want me to what?" Hannah said in disbelief.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "I think you need to ask Neville on a date."

The girl's face colored further to a brick red. "Why would I do that?"

"Look, I know you like him. Susan knows you like him. Everyone," she gestured around the Great Hall as people continued eating their lunch. "Knows you like him. So, bite the bullet and ask him for a kiss already."

"I… I can't just ask him!" Hannah replied, her eyes wide. "It's not… it's not proper!"

"Drop the huge pretense, will you?" Daphne snorted. "It's not like he's one to kiss and tell."

"But… but, but…"

"Seriously, Hannah." Daphne glanced toward Susan as she leveled her fork at their friend. "You might as well claim him before courting starts. The only son of the Longbottom line, and looking to preserve his name? He'll have so many letters without impressions. Might as well make one now." Hannah didn't respond, her face quickly turning puce.

"Why do you think she should ask him to go to the greenhouses?" Susan asked as she speared another bit of duck on her fork, her eyebrow raised at her.

"You know how much he loves the subject. Doing something he likes is the quickest way to earn his approval." She responded in a matter-of-fact voice. "He won't say no; he's been sneaking glances at you all year in Herbology."

"Really?" Hannah muttered; her head dipped so that her bangs covered her blush.

"Yes," Daphne replied, looking across the aisle between their tables. "Look, he's only a few seats down from us. Come on." She grabbed Hannah's wrist and pulled her out of the bench down toward the boy. Hannah tried to slip away but she kept her grip tight. _Just fucking come on._

She stopped behind the boy, the attention of all his tablemates on her. "Neville?"

"Y-yes?" The boy sputtered, adjusting his glasses.

Daphne glanced at Hannah and let go of her wrist. "Hannah has a question for you."

The glare the girl sent her rivaled Nikki's. She looked down at Neville and her face went scarlet again. "Um… uh… would, would you like to show me around the greenhouses after lunch?" she sputtered out.

Neville blinked. His face was pinking along with hers. _A match made in heaven._ "S-s-sure." He stuttered out. "I'll… I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall?"

Hannah nodded, rendered mute by the turn of events. Daphne spun around and walked back to her seat, Hannah stumbling after her as the boys erupted into laughter. She sat down and resumed eating her pork medallions.

"Remind me to never tell you a crush," Susan remarked as Hannah plopped back into her seat.

* * *

_Could you two leave already? _Daphne glowered from under the invisibility cloak. She had spent ten minutes in the Entrance Hall waiting on the two lovebirds to leave, with no sign of them at the top of the stairs.

They finally appeared and slowly made their way to the greenhouse, talking about how they each thought they did on the exams. _Way to really go for it, Hannah._

Finally, they made it to Greenhouse One. Longbottom unlocked the door with his key, saying something about 'letting Sprout know they had visited later'. She caught the door before it could shut all the way and slipped in after them.

"Must have been the wind," Neville shrugged as he showed Hannah around his favorite plants. Hannah's expression showed she wasn't nearly as wowed with the plants as he was, so she focused on his face instead. _Kill me._

Hannah was eventually caught in the trap of being asked a question while not paying attention. Her face turned to panic as she registered Neville calling her name.

Daphne smirked as Hannah pecked him on the lips in desperation. _It's going to be fun to tease her about that… when she tells us._ She mentally amended as Hannah ran from the greenhouse, clearly scared of what she had just done. Neville, in complete bewilderment, stood still for about eight seconds before he muttered 'huh' to himself. He placed the plant he was holding on the counter, rubbed his lips with his finger, turned around, and left, locking the door behind him.

_Isn't young love adorable?_ Daphne cracked to herself as she pulled the invisibility cloak off. She walked down the length of the classroom and started examining the parchment labels attached to each box of dirt.

After twenty minutes, she found a ceramic divider with six little clovers in tiny sprouts. She double-checked the label and pulled the whole dirt clod from one of the sections, placing it in an empty pot.

She pulled the cloak back on, opened the door, and locked it back with a locking charm, the pot held against her waist. In no time she was back in her room, cloak off her head and plant on her desk, smirking as she watched Susan beg Hannah for more details about her first kiss.

* * *

"Operam Auferetur," Hermione murmured to herself. She looked at herself in the mirror. "Can you still see me?"

"Yes," Cress replied. "Try it again."

Her wand flicked through the air as she complied. "Operam Auferetur." Cress just shook his head.

"This is a real spell you've given me, yes?" Hermione asked as she sighed and practiced the wand movements again.

"Of course it is," Cress growled, looking affronted. "It's not my fault you aren't able to complete it."

Hermione tried it again. Still nothing. "The last time you saw a wizard cast the spell, were you bound to him?"

Cress frowned. "No," he rasped as he scratched at the patch of fur on his neck. "You think I can still see you because we're bound together?"

Hermione tilted her head. "I was. But that can't be it; I can't see you when you turn invisible."

From behind her, a knock sounded on her door. Cress vanished as she checked the peephole. Lily.

She unlocked her door and opened it. "Do you need something, Lily?" She asked.

Lily's rabbit eyes darted away from her. "Um… well, I… I… I don't remember." She said as her eyes danced cartwheels inside her head.

"Who are you talking too?" Millicent asked from one of the common area's chairs. "Why is Hermione's door open?" She said again, as her eyes began doing the same thing.

_Ah. _"Finite!" She said, pointing her wand at her foot. Lily's eyes stopped playing pinball.

"What was that?" demanded Millicent.

"Sorry," Hermione replied. "I was practicing an advanced spell, and I couldn't tell whether or not it worked."

"It works," Millicent said, a tinge of awe in her voice. "You should cast it on Pansy for a day; she'd go mad from everyone ignoring her."

Hermione smiled and turned back to Lily. "What was it you needed?"

"I… I just wanted to tell you that I'm not going to ignore you anymore!" She said vigorously. "Pansy and Tracey put me up to it, and I thought about what you said after a bit and… and I don't want to take sides anymore." Hermione noticed tears swelling in the girl's eyes.

_She's clearly emotional when she becomes passionate._ Hermione tilted her head as Lily continued. _Her emotions run away with her too easily._

"…not that I wasn't mad myself about how many points you lost. But pretending you don't exist isn't going to earn them back—" Lily stopped talking as Hermione gave her a brief hug.

"Thanks," Hermione said. She closed her door back before the witch could say anything else. "What's the next spell you wanted to teach me, Cress?"

* * *

Holly double-checked her watch. Twenty till nine. Madam Pince would be at the front of the library with her cart soon. They needed to hurry.

Daphne hadn't shown up yet. With the stunt she had pulled at lunch, though, Holly had no doubts the girl managed to fulfill the favor. Hermione's absence was the one that worried her.

Her eyes lifted at the sound of footsteps. It was Daphne. She looked positively murderous, her hair messy and her robes covered in dirt splotches. "Here," she said, offering back the cloak. A small pot was nestled in the crook of her arm. "I double-checked this was real with a groundhog." She said. "The price of my favor has gone up because of it." She placed the plant on the table.

"Thank you," said Holly as the badger fell into a chair.

"Where's Granger?" Daphne grunted.

Holly sighed. "No idea," she said as she glanced around. She had sat in the very front of the library so that Daphne would find her easily. She didn't believe that Hermione could have missed her. "She'll be here soon."

Daphne muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "maybe she realized how stupid this plan is". Holly chose to ignore it.

The Slytherin appeared in the main doors and walked briskly over to them. "We need to leave now." She said. "Someone was tailing me. Know any other exits from the library?"

"There's only the one," Holly whispered. "Who do you think it was?"

As Hermione opened her mouth to respond, Lily Moon walked through the doors and zeroed in on them. She turned over her shoulder and headed straight for them, Neville and Hannah Abbott in tow. "Crap."

Hannah reached them first. "I can't believe this." She said in a loud whisper. "You three are going to sneak around after hours? Again?"

Holly and Hermione defaulted as Daphne rolled her eyes. "I'm not planning on doing any excursions after curfew, thank you."

"Hermione?" Lily said softly. "Why risk being caught? Again? I just told you I wouldn't blame you for the last time anymore. You want to risk that?"

"How did you know to follow me?" Hermione asked, her head tilting to the left.

"Your spell was on again when you walked through the common area." Tears streamed down Lily's face. "I ran into Hannah and Neville and knew if you were going sneaking it would be with them, so I told them to help me. You can't go around past curfew again, you can't!"

Holly's head spun. Neville wasn't even talking to her, but the wounded puppy-look on his face felt like a punch to the gut.

"Holly?" His voice broke through the slowly rising voices of Hannah, Daphne, and Lily. Daphne looked like she was about to punch Hannah in the face. Hannah looked like she wanted to slap Daphne and at the same time didn't. Lily was openly crying, begging Hermione not to go. At this rate, Madam Pince would descend upon them and they'd all lose points for being loud in the library.

_Enough._ "Stupefy." Holly cast the charm at the loudest interloper. Hannah seized and landed on the table with a thump as she fell to the floor.

Lily looked at her like she had shot her dog. Another cast and she was down too.

Neville looked at her, already conscious of his fate. "You better not get caught," he said. Her stunner hit and he landed on the ground.

"Time to go," said Holly. She grabbed the pot off the table as Hermione rose behind her. "Room for one more," she offered to Daphne.

The black-haired girl stared at the unconscious forms in front of her. "Whoever wakes them up is going to think I'm out past curfew too."

"Just talk with someone once you're back in the dorms," Hermione suggested. "Mention how close it was to curfew for added effect."

"Later." Holly gave her a salute as she and Hermione pulled the cloak on and vanished into the halls.

* * *

Daphne fought with herself as she made her way back to the dorm. She hadn't bothered to wake the three; Pince would find them soon enough. Unconsciousness counted as an excuse for tardiness, after all.

As she waited for one of the staircases to rotate into place for her on the first-floor landing, she glanced down the history corridor. Her heart stopped.

The hooded figure was silently walking down the hallway. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he paused. His hand inched for his robes…

Daphne raised her head to the upper staircase. "Evening, Headmaster." She said loudly, waving her hand at nothing.

"Barmy brat," muttered a portrait of a wizard dictating to anyone who would listen. The figure's hand froze. He changed tactics, walking quickly to a suit of armor. The figure squeezed by it and disappeared into a secret passage. He was gone.

Daphne broke into a run, racing up the stairs. She rounded the corner, her heart pounding in her chest. _If he's wearing his disguise indoors, that means he's going for the stone. Which means those idiots are about to be caught between a dog and a hard place._

As she ascended the final stairs to the third floor, the stairway came loose and began to shift. Her feet pounded as she kept her speed, pushing herself for a few final steps of acceleration. At the top left corner, she jumped for the landing.

Her stomach collided with the jutting space left by the stairs, her legs over open air. Portrait figures gasped as she coughed and swung her leg to hook her ankle on the smooth marble. She pulled herself to rights, shaking and took off for the ward entrance.

Potter, Granger, and Cress looked up as she sprinted toward them. "Daphne, what—" Potter started.

"Cloak, now!" She hissed. Over her shoulder, the figure had yet to come around the corner…

Cress vanished as Potter complied, throwing the cloak over the three of them. "What is—"

"Shut up." She interrupted Potter as the figure appeared. Potter drew in a breath.

The figure neared. Now that the forest darkness wasn't around to conceal his visage, he looked to be on the short side. He waited in front of the door.

A thunderous chime rang through the school, signaling the clock had struck nine. The figure muttered a spell and the ward scheme on the door lit up in a brilliant yellow. He muttered again, and the black mist of the figure's face spread into aa cloud, enveloping him completely. The mist shot forward and slipped through the keyhole, bypassing the wards entirely.

They waited in silence for a few minutes until she was sure he was gone. "You're welcome," she said dryly.

"Where'd you see him?" Granger asked as Potter pulled the cloak off their heads.

She coughed again. Her throat felt like she had shoveled a handful of sand down it. "Au-aguamenti." The weak stream of water filled her mouth and she swallowed. "History corridor," she muttered. "He's too thin to be Errol though."

"Thanks for warning us," Potter said. She set the pot on the windowsill and pulled the raskovnik from the dirt.

"You're still going?" Daphne asked. "Why? If he's already after it—"

"Then now is our best chance to stop him." Potter held the plant beside the door. The yellow segments flared to life again and shuddered, disintegrating away from the plant as she reached for the knob. She looked at her with a pleading expression, her hand on the knob. "Last chance to come with us."

"It's already passed curfew," Granger said quietly. "You'll be the only one to blame for stunning the others."

_Goddammit, they're right. Even if I gave up their names, I would have to give up the whole operation. _She closed her eyes, wishing the chips could have fallen differently.

"Daphne," Potter whispered. "We won't blame you if you leave. We won't blame you if you explain what happened. We've put you in a bad situation once. We won't a second time."

_Fuck you. _"I know," Daphne said as Potter turned the knob. "Let's go."

* * *

Hermione followed the other two into the room. The stone room was impossibly tall, with the roof spanning almost half the height of the library. Small globes with white flames cast their light about the room from near the ceiling to illuminate the black hound before them.

The ears on Fluffy's middle head perked as the door sealed behind them. The animal looked like a Staffordshire bull terrier, with each of the three heads awakening to examine them. She stepped forward as the middle head panted, its ears flopping as it shook its head. The right head yawned and started sniffing at the lamp above him, while the left dog growled low, the hair on his neck standing up.

Hermione ignored the heads as Cresswell loomed in front of her, hovering at the dog's height. All three of Fluffy's heads yelped and he scrambled away on his paws, his tail tucked underneath his legs.

Hermione kept a steady pace as the dog backed away. From under it emerged a wooden trapdoor with a metal ring on one end. "There's a door," Hermione said, her eyes focused on Fluffy. "You two go through, I'll join in a second."

Holly's rings hummed with an unleashed spell. She must have stepped forward, for the left head growled again, teeth bared. Cress spread his arms wide and growled back, and the head quieted.

She heard Holly grunt as the trapdoor's wood ground against the stone. "After you," she said.

"Funny," Daphne replied. A soft thump sounded from behind her, and then a second. Her eyes stayed locked on Fluffy as she and Cress back to the hole. The left head barked, his voice resounding like a cannon blast as he snapped at her. Cress chittered and socked him in the muzzle. The head whimpered and stilled its advancement.

Hermione glanced at the door. The space was beside her now. She moved her eyes back to Fluffy as his middle head began to bark. The left head joined in as she fell through the open door. Cress followed her, closing the door behind them.

Whimpers and faint scratching mingled with the sound of jingling tags as Fluffy tried to follow them. She sighed in the darkness and pulled out her wand. "Lumos."

The second room was considerably darker than the first. The air was thicker, almost to the point of a humid cold, with a foul smell in the air. A doorless passageway stood in the center of one of the walls as a moist, slithering sounded beckoned from around them.

"Lumos!" Hermione looked at Holly to see her covered in creeping, leafy tendrils. She stared as more of the plants emerged from the walls, white roots threading over the stones and blooming more and more stems.

"It's devil's snare." She said as she checked her own feet. "Light and heat, quick!"

"Lumos!" Holly shouted through gritted teeth. The plants were snagging her bangles with their leaves, interrupting them from properly turning.

"Calor!" Daphne cast, her wand pointed at her feet. The tendrils curling around her ankle unwound themselves immediately.

Hermione bent over; her wand kept alight next to her feet. "Have your demon shoot fire already, Granger!"

"I have a name!" Cress ground as he floated above the spreading green. "And I don't make fire, my body deflects it. Idiot."

Daphne's nostrils flared as she pointed at the thrashing vines. Fire sprung from her wand, scorching the vines. She carved a path to them as Hermione held her wand light into the passage. The vines shrunk from the doorway, fleeing the light as Daphne fired another flame charm at the mass of tendrils.

The leaves fled from Holly as a burst of heat radiated away from her. It washed throughout the room; Hermione felt the impression she had sunken into a hot bath. Cress rumbled in approval as her allies joined her. "Partum lapis," Holly said, her bangles pointed at the gap in the stone. Brown light shone from her bangles as the space filled with several square chunks of rock. "Stupid plants." The redhead turned and walked ahead, Daphne and her following on either side.

As they neared the next passageway, a soft rustle of feathers mingled with a metallic tingle of bells. The gloom showed no signs of movement.

Hermione squinted as they passed under the lentil. The room was excruciatingly bright; with several lanterns in neon pinks, greens, and blues strung around the room on wires. The sounds had grown louder, and Hermione looked up to see a flock of oddly shaped birds tittering in metallic chirps as they flew about the room.

She and Cress watched, transfixed by the aviary wonders above them. "Another impossibly high room," she muttered. "These can't be actual rooms in the castle. Can they?"

"Who knows?" She lowered her head to look at Holly, who was busy inspecting the silver lock cast into the wood. "Altering space and time isn't that hard if you know how to do it. The rooms are probably all set up in a line, with the doors placed where they are needed to circumvent the space."

"It looks like the corner area of any other floor," Daphne said as she squinted at the roof. "The space is likely to accommodate all the birds. I'm surprised they aren't attacking us, to be honest." She turned to Holly. "Use the raskovnik again."

Holly patted her uniform. "Oh, crap…"

"You lost it?" Daphne said as she carefully exhaled through her nose. "Where?"

"We don't need it," Hermione said quietly. "We need one of the keys."

Daphne rounded on her. "What keys?"

She pointed up. "Holly can catch the correct key."

"How do we know which one is right?"

"If it matches the handle, it'll have the same pattern—most likely silver, maybe larger than the others," Holly answered. Her bangles glowed blue as she cast her searching spell, followed by a rocketing hex.

The swarm of keys flew to life as the wisp pooled into their flock. They dived and dipped, flying to the top of the room and soaring back down again. Holly jumped from wall to wall, blasting across the swarm. The keys spread around her like a stream around a rock. Several beat across her face and tumbled through her hair. She shook it off and leaped after them, running along the wall as they soared further away.

Hermione watched intently for whichever one she was aiming for and saw the wisp settle on one with a bent wing. "There."

"I see it!" Holly shouted back as she waited for the swarm to circle back around. They hovered above her on the ceiling as she slid down the stone wall, grimacing. "New plan. Erucae!" She soared into the middle of the swarm and fell with it. The keys screeched as they rushed for the floor, Holly in freefall after them. "Cover your face!" Holly shouted.

She realized what her friend was doing and turned. The swarm pulled from its dive, several keys maiming themselves on the floor as they failed to pull up in several peals. Hermione braced for impact as the flapping sound blew past them.

She looked over her shoulder to see Cress standing behind her, his arms and rib bones blocking the brunt of the flock from hitting her and Daphne. He chittered in annoyance as Holly blasted from freefall and soared over him, snagging the key from the air. "Got it!"

The redhead dropped to the floor, the key tight in her hand. It flapped its wings uselessly as Holly pushed it into the lock. She pulled it out and let it go after the door clicked. It fluttered about them angrily before returning to its brethren, its wing bent further than it was when they had entered.

The next room was back to the white candlelight from Fluffy's room. The door shut behind them and the lock clicked.

In the center of the room stood a larger-than-life chess set. The board covered nearly the entire floor, with only the faintest area of the typical stonework hugging the walls. Both sets were missing several pieces, with chunks of rubble scattered about the board.

"Erucae." Holly shot over the board and landed by the door on the other side. "Another lock," she called over her shoulder. "It's like a vault door, with some sort of slot inside." Her bangles hummed as she pointed at the chess set. "These statues have some heavy enchantments on them if they're setting these off."

Daphne walked to the board, examining the remaining pieces. "This is built like wizard's chess." She muttered. "Which means this rubble are the pieces from the last game. Casualties of war." Her eyes narrowed as she looked from the black king to the white. "That's the key. His sword."

"Hang on," Holly called as she shot back to their side. "We have to play chess to open the door? Why not just smash him and take the sword?"

"I expect they'd all animate to life to stop us," Hermione said, staring at the faceless pieces. "But that doesn't fit. Animation is a charm, not transfiguration."

Holly glanced at Daphne. "Neither of us know what you're talking about."

Hermione looked at them. "The other tests, excluding Fluffy, have each been by a teacher. Professor Sprout was the devil's snare. Professor Flitwick charmed the keys."

"McGonagall the chess set." Holly turned her gaze over the board.

"That means there is something with potions ahead," Daphne concluded. "And that's only if it's the four heads of house."

"But this isn't a transfiguration." Hermione tilted her head. "Unless…" She walked away from the other two and stepped onto the game board. The board rumbled.

The rubble clattered against the floor as the pieces rolled back together. They built themselves up into solid, rectangular prisms, each of varying heights but the same cubic width. The prisms floated to the empty spaces on the board and landed. Silently, they morphed and twisted into the various chess figures, until the board was complete.

Hermione tapped the black king. It maneuvered its featureless face to peer at her with a grinding sound.

"Must we take positions to cross, or do we merely have to win?"

The king held up two fingers before returning to his original position.

Hermione turned to them. "At least we don't have to be the pieces." She said.

"You can beat it?" Holly asked.

She nodded. "I remember when Ronald tried to preach how it's played at Yule." She eyed the board with careful precision. "Ready when you are."

A white pawn slid forward to E-four. _Mirror for the first two moves, he said._ "Pawn to E-five." She called out. Her piece cooperated.

Knight to F-three. "Knight to C-six." Bishop to B-five. "Knight to F-six." As she planned, the white king and the rook castled. "Knight to G-four."

Her moves flowed automatically as she reviewed the idiot's speech, trying to decipher what he had meant through his mouthful of food. The rook shifted to E-one, and she moved a pawn to B-six. _Stall until he moves the pawn. Keep your eyes away from where you want to be. _She stared at the blank face of the king. A pawn moved to H-three.

"Pawn to H-five." As soon as her pawn had settled, the white pawn sprung to life. It drew its sword with a scraping crunch and pierced the knight's horse in the chest. Her knight exploded into a shower of rubble, clattering about the board. The pawn sheathed its sword and took the knight's place at G-four.

"Pawn, capture G-four." The exact movements played as her pawn skewered the other. Again, the 'taken' piece broke apart and crumbled along the length of the board.

The rook at E-one shifted back to F-one. "Rook to H-seven." _Stalling again. _The white knight closed its ranks, returning to E-one to safeguard the king. "Queen to H-four."

The pawn at F-two moved to F-four. _Stuck with one remaining path, he'll have to move the pawn. Then you move yours up, and that's the game. _"Pawn to G-three."

The king's sword fell from its place in the stonework. She'd won. "Great job," Holly cheered as she walked across the board and lifted the sword. _Thank god I don't have to imagine Ron's voice anymore._

Her allies crossed the board to the door. She lifted the sword and slid it into the gap. The door clicked.

Cress floated down and turned the giant spokes of the door until it opened. Like all the others, it sealed itself after they made it through.

"God," muttered Daphne, clutching her nose.

The room stank. A troll, larger than the one from Halloween, lay on the floor. Its waist was completely liquified into a puddle of torn flesh and rusty red that pooled in between its torso half and its legs half. One of its arms was gone, the useless skin flapping over the exposed bone.

"Is that what happened to you?" Daphne asked Cress from behind her hand

He gave her a dirty look. "It'll happen to you if you don't stop pestering me." He growled, cracking his clawed fingers.

"Cress, no evisceration without my say-so." Hermione reminded him. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, the smell of decay was growing every second. "Let's move on, please."

Holly opened the next door. The same white candles lit this room as well, revealing a table with seven different containers on it.

As the door shut, queer purple flames enveloped the wall. As she turned her head, Hermione glanced forward to see black fire spouting from the passageway ahead of them.

"If these walls begin to go all trash compactor on us, I'm killing both of you." Daphne ground out.

"There's a paper." Hermione plucked the parchment off the table and scanned it. "A logic puzzle," she breathed. "Professor Snape is brilliant."

"I hated those in primary," Holly muttered. "Cute little potion worksheet to celebrate Halloween. Always worked in the most ridiculous ways."

"It's not that difficult," Hermione said, gazing at all the potions on the table. "Cress, can you redirect this fire?"

"No," he sighed. "The black fire is Atlantean; there's no way for me to divert it." He glanced at the purple flames. "I don't even know how the violet ones are created, let alone controlled."

"Can you not figure out the logic puzzle?" asked Holly.

"No, I've solved it." Hermione snorted. "I just had a thought that if the poacher switched them around, the paper would no longer be accurate. It'd be the quickest way to deter a follower."

"Which one do you think is what we need to proceed?" Daphne asked.

"The smallest bottle." She pointed to the leftmost container. "Why?"

Daphne held the bottle up to the light. "It's the only one drunk from. Obviously, it's the one we need, since there's no corpse and we didn't pass anyone."

"All the others _are_ full," Holly noted as she peered through them. "Huh."

"There's only enough for one," Hermione said, tilting her head at the tiny amount of liquid inside the minuscule capsule. "Who's going?"

Daphne snapped her fingers and the bottle refilled. "I figured out how to do that while I was in the muggle world." She said quietly as she passed the bottle to Holly. "You three drink it first. I'll refill it each time, don't worry."

"Bottoms up." Holly toasted and drained the bottle. She coughed and handed it back to Daphne, her face screwed up in confusion. "It feels like ice water's in my veins." She coughed.

Cresswell shoved her through the flames. "She takes too long."

"First sensible thing you've said." Daphne refilled the bottle and passed it to her. She took a sip and shuddered. Cresswell carefully took it into his hand and finished it off.

"Graaaah." He growled. She handed the vial back to Daphne and walked through the ebony flames. She couldn't feel them or see them, and it seemed like the fire wasn't there at all. No burns or ash on her clothes, nothing.

She saw only black and then, she emerged. She stepped next to Holly and stared at the figure in the last chamber as Daphne surfaced through the flames. Or more accurately, at the mirror in front of the figure. The Mirror of Erised.

* * *

Holly stared at the Mirror of Erised. She thought she would never have to see that cursed hunk of glass ever again, and here it stood. The final test.

"Bravo," the figure said. _The voice… it's familiar, but…_ "I thought our little bypass in the hallway was suspicious, Miss Greengrass. As for you, Miss Granger, I suppose it's time for me to concede my suspicions about you were incorrect. Summoned a demon, then?" The figure clicked his tongue. "Potter," _Lucky me, I get extra sneer treatment. _"It's no wonder you are here to stand in my way."

"You?" Hermione asked.

The figure inclined his head to regard her and waved his hand over his face. The black mist disappeared up his sleeve as he reached and pulled back the hood.

"Me," said Professor Quirrell. "Who else did you think it was, dear girl?"

"We hadn't really tried to figure that part out," Holly replied. "We thought you were just a poacher at first."

"Ah," Quirrell nodded. "Then it was you three who was investigating me. After the whole school turned their back on you, I had wondered."

"Then you were the one who let the troll in on Halloween?" Hermione asked.

"Guilty as charged." The man's turban wobbled as he bowed.

"Why would you want the stone?" Daphne stared at him. "Aside from wealth, there is hardly anything it could provide you."

"The Stone isn't only for me, Miss Greengrass." Quirrell smiled. "It's intriguing to see you here tonight. Another family crushed by his reign, here to face me again."

"Voldemort." Quirrell's eyes trained onto her. "That's who you're working with."

"Not all my dear," a voice ladled with a terrible hoarseness whispered. It came from Quirrell, but not from his tongue. "It is who he is working _for_."

Quirrell's body turned in a circle as his arms bent out of place as they had in the forest. Out of the corner of her eye, Daphne winced. Quirrell's fingers flexed and they reached up, up to his purple turban which he unwrapped with carefree abandon.

The cloth fell to the ground and Quirrell's hands lowered. Holly stared.

The back of Quirrell's head was not there. Instead of hair, or the back of a neck, or the outline of a cranium, was a face. Chalk white, with no nose, and eyes like sinister rubies.

"Voldemort." Hermione breathed; her head tilted in fascination.

Quick as a whip, a spell left his fingers. It soared into Daphne, blasting her off her feet and up into the wall. She let out a pain-filled scream and crumpled to the floor with a grotesque bounce.

"Daphne!" Holly turned as a yellow light shot from Voldemort's wand. It connected with Hermione's chest, her hair standing on end as she seized and folded to the floor, steam wafting from her skin.

"Grauuaagh!" Cresswell roared and flew at Voldemort, his arms flailing in his wake. A blue-violet spell emerged from his wand and collided with the demon. He fell from the air, carving a trench into the stone as he crashed to the earth. She held up her hands as he trained his wand on her, suddenly unable to feel anything from the neck down.

"I'm sure you've put the pieces together," Voldemort said as he watched her. Quirrell's eyes stared at her in the reflection of the mirror. "I need the Philosopher's Stone for the Elixir of Life, so I may return myself to a body."

"What's wrong with your current one?" She couldn't help but ask.

Voldemort smiled cruelly. "This pathetic lump of a man? He is not nearly powerful enough to sustain my full potential. As we speak, the strain I place on his body is… taxing."

"So, you resorted to unicorn blood."

"A temporary solution." Voldemort nodded. "You know much more about magic than I believed."

"I've studied in an awful lot of places." She said.

Voldemort's lip curled. "Then you truly may 'know a power I do not'." He inhaled sharply, and Holly corrected her earlier observation: he wasn't missing a nose after all. Two tiny slits like those of a snake were all that was left of his cartilage, worn away from decades of combat. "It is of no consequence. I still have the upper hand when it comes to experience." He frowned at her. "Now be silent while I decipher how to operate this mirror."

"Your mocking tone," Voldemort paused midway through turning to the mirror. "Why did you use it?" _Keep him talking. _Her bangles hummed as she charged power within them. It grated against the spell holding her in place, not yet enough to break it. Soon enough, though…

"He hasn't told you?" Voldemort laughed. His chuckles sounded how dead leaves did when they scuffed against each other. "About our prophecy? About the gilded savior destined to vanquish the Dark Lord?" His hands twirled Quirrel's wand between his fingers.

Holly's head spun. "That's why you attacked my family? And attacked me? All because of a prophecy?" She shook her head. "Have you never read Sophocles' _Oedipus Rex_?"

Voldemort sneered. "I am above the works of paltry muggles."

"A man often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it. That's the message of his work."

"And look at the wonder of the truth." Voldemort raised Quirrell's arms. "Even now, you stand against me."

"I don't have to," she said. "I know how the mirror works. I know what it does to people." She met his calculating gaze. "I can unlock the stone and give it to you."

"And why would you do that?" Voldemort asked. "Do you not crave for revenge against me? Do you not wish to see evil perish, and good triumph?"

"I know exactly what I want." _Almost enough._ The pressure in her arms was intense, the spell was soon to crack. "I want to keep me, and the people I care about safe."

Voldemort studied her. "An admirable request." He laughed again. "Unfortunately, your plan relies on the idea that I cannot see into your mind." _Shit. _He raised the wand into the air. "Avada—"

His spell broke. "Erucae!" She shot into the air, firing whatever spell came to mind at him. Flame charms, thunderbolts, stone conjurations, all crashed into a magnificent barrier of white. She shot forward as the smoke from her attacks thinned, diving under a glittering red curse as she neared his barrier. Another curse whizzed to her right as she spiraled, detonating in the ceiling behind her.

Rubble crashed as Holly spun into a landing and fired the levitation charm at his hand. His sidestep and glare of fury met the heel of her shoe as she kicked into his stupid, pasty face. She snatched the wood from his hand and rocketed away. Grasping the wand with both hands, she incinerated it on the spot.

And was immediately struck numb again. "You arrogant, foolish girl." Voldemort snarled. "Did you think I relied on a wand to attack?!"

"No, but your host did." She smirked viciously. "And he's a little preoccupied with his heart's desire."

Voldemort rolled his eyes in an honestly humorous attempt to observe the mirror. "Fool! What are you doing?"

"He's transfixed by what he wants most." Holly held in her snicker as Voldemort aggressively spun his red eyes in their sockets, unable to lift his feet and face the mirror. She charged the spell she needed quietly, the power humming in her arms.

"Quirinus! Do you see the Stone?"

"No, master," Quirrell said, a vapid smile on his face. "I see a gravestone… with my name carved onto it… this wonderful future…"

Voldemort's eyes flashed. "There is no death for those who follow me!" He screamed. "Remember what you came to me for, Quirinus? The secrets of the dark arts! To be known, to be noticed!" Quirrell didn't move from his position. "Fine, then." Voldemort sneered. Holly's concentration grew in power as she simultaneously forced her bangles to keep still.

Voldemort lunged away from the mirror, his body twitching in jerky mannerisms. His head lifted to Holly. "Retrieve the stone for me, little witch; and I'll agree to your terms."

"You really think I'm that stupid?" Holly asked. "Adastam lapis."

A stalagmite ripped from the ground and pierced through the back of Quirrell's body. He screamed in pain and Voldemort contorted his face is fury as he tried to pull Quirrell's mangled body from the spear in his stomach.

He wrenched himself free and staggered toward her, arms outstretched like a dullahan. Quirrell screamed in suffering as his organs fell from the hole, jostled out of place by Voldemort's spastic lunges, but his master cared not, eyes burning as he stumbled forward, dragging his puppet's entrails along the floor in a smear of red. Holly watched as the man's knee buckled and he collapsed at her feet, his arm stretching feebly to land on the ground next to her.

The black mist that had provided a mask coalesced on Quirrell's face. It gathered and swirled and shot into the air, spinning up and up to spiral through the ceiling and it was gone.

Cresswell hovered to life, the spell holding him in place broken. "Where is he?" He growled.

As Holly opened her mouth the black flames flared. She turned to see Dumbledore appear through the flames, followed quickly by the heads of houses and Madam Pomfrey. They rushed to the sides of Hermione and Daphne, the latter of which groaned as she stirred.

The Headmaster looked over the scene, his eyes flitting from the other girls to the rubble to the trench to the mirror and the spike to the ruin that had once been Quirinus Quirrell. "Holly?" He asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "What happened here?"

"I'll tell you once my friends are in the infirmary, Headmaster." She said as she looked him in the eyes, just over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. "I want to see them attended to before anything else."

* * *

**Boredguy's Grimoire:**

**Operam Auferetur: Attention Away: forces the attention away from the object/person it is cast on. If someone tries to focus on the object afflicted, they will be unable to and will forget about looking for it and its general existence.**

**Calor: Heat: spell creates a wave of heat of strength no higher than that of a large bonfire.**

**Partum Lapis: Create Stone: Conjuration with brown light; creates stone slabs that appear at the desired location. The size and shape of the stones vary based on the caster's intent.**

**Satiata: Fill: Refills the object it is cast one with whatever substance was previously in it, although the substance must have been in a liquid or plasmatic state and a small trace of the substance must still be in the container.**

**Adastam Lapis (Ad hastam lapis): Stone to Spear: Transfiguration spell; turns the afflicted stone into a stalagmite or stalactite. Capable of piercing flesh, bone, steel, and concrete.**


	17. Aftermath of Professor Quirrell

**Chapter Seventeen: Aftermath of Professor Quirrell**

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****Reviewer Responses****

**Pigroller45: **Yes, Daphne's trance scene is supposed to be there.

Voldemort's spellcasting power is greatly diminished through his host body's limitation. Quirrell is described as an avid scholar, but not a very good practitioner. The spell not fully freezing Holly is due to his limited power conserving on her limbs and her focus, with his full core divided between Voldemort's actions and the mirror. Voldemort's discussion of the prophecy comes from a place of genuine surprise; I don't doubt that he expected Dumbledore to have trained Holly with all the information he could as soon as he vanished. For this to not be the case would be surprising to him.

**Lunaris-Wind**: Apologies for taking so long in providing a resolution. School decided to kick me in the dick; even though the entrance exam for my college will determine your math level to be at Precalculus, that class does not provide any math credit. So, I had to drop that and switch to Algebra, and rearrange my schedule in the process, and this response is now terribly outdated since it was written in January. That's how long I've been working on this.

**Everybody clap your hands.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Holly watched from the bed Dumbledore directed her to sit in as her friends were attended to. Madam Pomfrey's prognosis spells revealed that Hermione had a feathered burn from where the spell hit her, and worse than that, a case of keraunoparalysis. Daphne was subject to a bruised kidney and aches in her lower back and arm. Pomfrey prescribed them each some nerve-restorative potion, with a burn salve for Hermione and Morgana's draught for Daphne. She also provided the badger some dreamless sleep at her request.

Professor McGonagall was the only professor still in the room. Snape vanished once he learned his snake was safe, and Sprout dithered off after Pomfrey informed her Hermione would be fine. Where Flitwick disappeared to, she didn't know. _Probably stuck raising the white sheet over Quirrell. _She wrinkled her nose. He was stuck with cleanup duties after every incident, it seemed.

She turned to look at Dumbledore. "Should we move the discussion to your office, Headmaster?"

"Don't think I've forgotten about you, young lady." Pomfrey interrupted, as the beams of her caduceus spell circled her head. The returned to the wand and the quill behind her began to write. "Mild abrasions."

"From Flitwick's keys," Holly clarified. "And maybe the devil's snare?"

Pomfrey shook her head as she dug out a bottle labeled 'essence of Murtlap' and white cloth which she quickly soaked. Holly hissed through her teeth at the familiar sting and waited for her to finish before looking back at Dumbledore.

"Poppy, do you think I could trouble you to wait in your office for our discussion?" The old man's fingers twiddled aimlessly as he flashed his amicable smile.

Poppy sighed and gave the man a warning glare. "If she mentions any more injuries, you _will _inform me." At Dumbledore's nod, she plucked her parchments and quill from the air and walked back to her office.

Holly looked at her head of house. "Must you be present for this?"

McGonagall's nostrils flared. "Yes, Miss Potter, I must."

"Minerva," Dumbledore began.

"No, Albus. I will be present for this. Second-hand accounts rarely stay the same." She transfigured a pillow from another one of the beds into a stout-backed chair and sat into it, her needle eyes focused on her, pointedly ignoring the Headmaster's pleading look.

Dumbledore bowed his head and turned to her. "When you are ready."

Holly told them. How they deduced the unicorn poacher was secretly after the Philosopher's Stone. How they planned to steal it first and turn it over for further safekeeping. How they didn't think any of the staff would have entertained their ideas, and how they had gotten past each of the puzzles. She edited the finer details, with Daphne solving the potions puzzle and Hermione singing Fluffy to sleep.

The headmaster and McGonagall were silent throughout her tale. McGonagall's eyes disappeared further and further into her hairline as she recalled the fight inside of the mirror's chamber. Dumbledore's grandfatherly demeanor dissolved like sugar in water as it went on, and his eye grew more and more assessing.

At the end of her report, he dropped his calculating gaze like a hat and reassumed the grandfatherly persona. "So, Voldemort is truly alive."

McGonagall's focus moved to the headmaster. "How could this be, Albus?"

The man straightened. "I have suspicions. You know of the horrific tomes that once housed themselves in our world; in this very castle." He shook his head. "Knowledge few should know of."

"In that vein," Holly interrupted them. "How did a Philosopher's Stone come to your possession, Headmaster? And why keep it here?"

"Ah," Dumbledore stroked his beard. "The Stone was a gift to Hogwarts by the legendary alchemist, Nicholas Flamel. He donated it as a gift upon my ascension to the role of Headmaster." The old man chuckled. "I apprenticed under him for a time, you know."

Holly nodded. "But why keep it here?"

"I assume you read about the successful break into Gringotts?" At her nod, he smiled. "Our resident seer predicted it's occurrence while in my office over the summer." Behind him, McGonagall rolled her eyes. "I moved to prevent her prediction at once. I never dreamed Quirinus was the man behind the Gringotts break-in, nor his master's possession of his body."

"He might not have been possessing him all year," she said. "Since he only hunted unicorns here towards the end, and all." She looked him in his eyes. "Voldemort also told me about the prophecy."

Dumbledore's features grew still, his grandfatherly smile frozen. "What exactly did he tell you, Holly?"

"That it foretold I was fated to defeat him." The words bloomed inside her memory in a rush. "He called it "our" prophecy. He also said something about a power…" _Then you may truly know a power I do not. _Voldemort mocked inside her skull. She shook her head and raised her head at the two adults. "That's all he said."

The twinkle in the headmaster's eyes faded. "Voldemort was correct in his information." He tutted; his voice no higher than a stage whisper. "There is a prophecy that foretold the birth of a child who could defeat him. A powerful child, born at the end of July, to parents who had defied him three times." He closed his eyes at the memory.

Holly waited for him to continue, but he merely exhaled. "And of all the children born, it must have been me." She said bitterly.

Dumbledore opened his eyes. "It appears so." She caught McGonagall's features shift behind him and decided to let the slight lie. She had other questions.

"Will the stone be returned to Gringotts?" She asked. "If Voldemort were to possess another person, he could circumvent their protections the same way he made it through your ward."

"The Stone will be destroyed," Dumbledore said. He chuckled at her disbelief. _Destroy an artifact that priceless?_

"Headmaster, surely we cannot do such a thing." McGonagall professed behind him. "That stone has kept Hogwarts alive for twenty years, and we are to throw it away? Our protections worked well enough; neither Quirrell nor our students managed to confiscate it from the chamber!"

"If objects are too dangerous to keep safe, they are better off lost to time," Dumbledore replied his grandfatherly persona back on. "Besides, Nicholas and Perenelle are very much alive and well. I'm sure they would agree to donate riches from their source now and again."

Holly pushed her ideas about that can of worms down and nodded. "One last question, Headmaster."

"Just the one?" He chuckled.

"What punishments will we receive?" Dumbledore blinked at her inquiry. McGonagall wore a similar expression of shock that was overtaken by a brief smile _at my 'responsibility', surely._

"Hm." Dumbledore hummed. "I believe that as you prevented the return of the most hated, despicable men in modern history, there is to be no punishment for the three of you. Only a stern warning." He winked at her and stood. "Although, I believe it would be best for everyone if the true villain of tonight's events was kept secret."

"Yes, Headmaster. We'll say it was a poacher attempting to steal Fluffy in addition to the unicorns." McGonagall's lips twitched as Dumbledore chuckled.

"Goodnight, Miss Potter." He said as he rose. McGonagall stood behind him. "If you can think of any other inquiries, do not hesitate to join us." He gave a final false smile as he led the way out of the hospital wing.

Holly sat with her thoughts. The 'he' Voldemort warned her about must have been the Headmaster. He knew more of the prophecy than he wanted her to know. And Voldemort knew bits of it, but his surprise at Dumbledore's secrecy… Voldemort expected her to be trained by him into an assassin of destiny, and not the vulnerable child she showed herself to be.

She sighed through her nose and lay back against her bed. Her friends wouldn't be conscious anytime soon. She would be a fool to waste the opportunity to join them.

* * *

Hermione awoke to soft sheets and the smell of cleaning solution. _The infirmary, then._

Her observations proved correct as she blinked her eyes open. Daphne lay upright in the bed across from her, pillows propped underneath her back. The high windows on either side pooled with black ink, and the candles on the wall gleamed with a comforting yellow light. From the feel of the sheets, she could deduce that her clothes were not currently on her person.

Daphne's voice sounded from the other side of the room. "You're up." A muttered 'finally' followed the boredom in her voice.

"What happened?" She questioned. She moved to push herself up to see across their gap better, but her arms were too numb to move. Her muscles tingled as she relinquished her attempt to rise. "How long have I been down?"

"A day and a half," Daphne replied. "Holly said he electrocuted you after he threw me into a wall."

Hermione tried to lift her neck and gave up. The dull brown of the ceiling would have to do. "He didn't rough you up too badly, did he?"

Daphne snorted. "Just a bruised kidney. I've been worse."

Hermione processed what she said. "What happened to Quirrell?"

Daphne was quiet. "It wasn't him. It was Voldemort."

Her brow furrowed. "Voldemort? But I thought Holly—"

"Killed him years ago?" Daphne sighed. "Apparently, he transformed himself into a wraith. He's been inside Quirrell's body all year."

Another beat of silence. "Holly stopped him, then?"

"Yes," the tinge of worry inside her faded. "She wasn't even injured. She got him good though, he's dead."

Hermione frowned. _I'll have to ask about that later. _"What is our punishment?"

"Nothing yet. The official story is a poacher infiltrated the Forbidden Forest and attempted to steal Fluffy, along with his cache of unicorn… bits. We all happened to see him walk past us and managed to knock him out after he attacked us. Holly ran to the nearest professor, and Patrol took him away."

Hermione hummed. It wasn't a terrible cover-up, all things considered. "Cress? How are you?"

"Finally, you remembered me." He ground out like a petulant child as he appeared above her bedside table. "I'm fine, by the way."

"Glad to hear it." _Looking up through his torso is distracting._

"When are we going to be released?"

"Once I say you will be," Madam Pomphrey's voice echoed as her door shut. "Don't move your head, I need to ensure the paralysis has faded."

"Paralysis?"

"You were struck by a lightning spell, Miss Granger." The glow of her diagnostic spell cast a sheen on the headboard. "Do you feel anything troubling?"

"My arms and legs feel like they've been asleep for a month."

"Another nerve-restorer will fix that," Madam Pomfrey commented as her glow faded. "Any headache? Aches, pains?"

"None whatsoever." The metallic click of metal rings startled her.

"Only the curtain, dear." Madam Pomfrey said as she appeared in her field of vision. "If I may check your electrical burn?" At her nod, the matron pulled away her covers. She shivered.

"Not as bad as my spell suggested." Madam Pomfrey murmured. She pulled the lid off a jar and Hermione felt a salve massaged over her abdomen. "Any discomfort, or are you putting on a brave face?"

"The first one." She lied. Discomfort would be punished, and though consciously she knew Hogwarts was not the same as St. Agnes', her subconscious begged to differ. _The quicker they think I'm better, the quicker I can leave._

Her covers returned. "Mouth open, please." She complied and swallowed the brew tipped down her throat, unable to hold in a solitary cough. The prickling in her arms and legs returned with a vengeance.

"Give it a few minutes before you try to move around." Madam Pomfrey instructed. "I trust Miss Greengrass has informed you off the incidents?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll leave you to it. Would you prefer the curtain closed?"

"No, thank you." Closed off from Daphne, however fraught their relationship, would be unbearable. At least she was a companion to commiserate the experience with.

Madam Pomfrey obliged and crossed the room to attend to Daphne. "May I leave, now?" She heard Daphne ask the matron as her diagnostic spell faded.

Madam Pomfrey tutted. "You may leave in the morning. I need to supervise you one final night to ensure your kidney heals fully." Hermione waited in the silence for the next few words. "I'll be in my office if you need anything, dears." The nurse said as her footsteps faded in clarity.

Hermione waited until she heard the door shut to speak. "Daphne?"

"Yeah?" The girl asked roughly.

"I apologize for forcing you to join us in the corridor." Her ears strained as the silence between them stretched on. Finally, the other girl answered.

"Don't worry about it, Granger."

Hermione stared at the brown ceiling. _At least we're back to speaking._

* * *

Holly entered the common room from her dormitory to a smatter of light applause. _I wish they would stop doing that._

Her first return to Gryffindor Tower was a boisterous event. A party in the common room had been ordered (organized by Fred and George), with the entire House desperate to celebrate her valiant defeat of the mysterious poacher. The older years procured snacks ad butterbeer, and the Weasley Twins sang an edited version of 'She's a jolly good fellow' as she received an endless count of back pats and congratulations.

With the Headmaster's announcement came the delusion he was waiting for the leaving feast to properly adjust the house points and push Gryffindor into first place. Ludicrous.

Funny how many seemed to forget they were supposed to hate her as they did the previous month.

She ignored the applause and headed straight for the door. Mozu flicked her tongue out as she crossed through the portrait hole. "I'm tired of the noise following you around," she hissed, agitation in her tone. "Tell them to stop or I promise, I will bite someone the next time they try it."

"Noted," she hissed back once she slipped into a side passage. "You are welcome to bite them next time."

She plopped at an open space on the Gryffindor table as the mail owls enveloped the room. Surprisingly, a small Eurasian pygmy landed in front of her plate. It stood on its leg, a small message wrapped around it, a money pouch underneath.

Holly paid the owl three galleons and focused on the words on the paper. She idly recognized Mozu hissing and glanced up to see the owl had swiped a piece of bacon from her familiar's plate.

Her attention returned to the note as she thought over the summons before her. With a quick swipe, she nicked a self-inking quill from Percy Weasley's pocket and scribbled her reply. The mail owl waited for her to tie it to him and took off.

She kept her eyes on it until it disappeared into the sun of the Great Hall's windows. _Quick decisions are always great when first awake, _she noted to herself as she returned Weasley's quill to his plate and picked up another piece of toast.

"Miss Potter," the dull drawl of the potions master sounded from across the table. She looked up. "If you would join me in my office at nine o'clock. We have matters to discuss."

She nodded cautiously and held up a bit of bacon. Mozu snapped at the piece, her teeth feathering over her fingers. The touch barely registered, her mind locked for her excursion. The only remaining question was how to do it?

Professor Snape's office fit the great bat to a tea. A Slytherin House banner was draped along the back wall. An eggshell-colored desk stood underneath it, the space covered with potions ingredients, parchment, books, and alchemy materials.

Holly predicted Snape wanted to confirm her version of events. He did the same thing to Hermione when she and Daphne were caught dueling. Either that, or he was going to ask her to open about her mother again. And she was _not_ in the mood for either.

The sour man was waiting for her. He raised his eyes to her for half of a second at the sound of the latch. "Sit," he uttered as he continued to write on the parchment in front of him.

Holly sat in the polished chair, nearly slipping back out as she slouched down. Snape continued to ignore her as Mozu lazily wound on her shoulders. She copied her familiar's movements with her arms, sliding them back and forth on the armrests. _If I hadn't left my bangles with Daphne, I'd be able to practice my unwinding._

The sound of Snape's quill stopped. "Miss Potter." He said as he spelled the ink dry and rolled up the parchment. A casual toss sent it to join its brethren on a green trunk. "Do you know what a pensieve is?"

"It is an object to store and view memories, sir," Holly replied, reexamining the room to spot the detail she missed. There was no basin anywhere. "You want to see my full memory of last night."

"Just a part of it, Miss Potter." Snape lifted his wand and summoned a stone pensieve from inside a cabinet. It floated and came to rest on the counter behind him.

Holly watched the airborne stone settle and looked back at him. "You want to see my memory of the fight with Voldemort."

Snape did not flinch at the name as McGonagall did. _Leg up for Slytherin. _He stared down his long nose at her, directly at her eyes. Holly felt like challenging them, but the way they twinkled made her think of Dumbledore and his reactions from when she recounted the fight inside the hospital wing. "Dumbledore."

Snape moved his head the tiniest bit to the left. The shimmer left his eyes. "What?"

"Just thinking, sir," she shook her head and leaned back, careful not to cross the point of slippage the chair provided. She stared at the front of Snape's desk, her mind double-checking her leaps. "You don't want to see my memory at all, do you, Professor? Dumbledore wants to see it, and he is making you collect it." She spared a glance upward, and while Snape's face bore defeat, there was no shock on his face. Perhaps he already believed she would deduce who wanted it?

"Do you want me to bite him?" Mozu whispered to her.

She waited and chanced another glance. Snape's face still held no indication of surprise, fury, or distaste at the assignment he had been given. "That is correct, Miss Potter." He answered. "Dumbledore does want to see your fight with the Dark Lord."

"Before I make my decision, may I ask why our Headmaster wants to see it? Does he believe me a liar?"

"Nothing like that," Snape's lip curled. "The Headmaster is one who believes what the vulnerable tell him. No, he wants to see you in action. He thinks your interpretation of events may be somewhat… embellished."

"He doesn't think I can fight as well as I said?"

Snape was quiet for a moment. "I do not know why exactly he wants to see your spat with the Dark Lord. Nor do I particularly care what happened during it; as there was no severe danger present."

"Voldemort doesn't qualify as a 'danger'?" She asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"When he has been trapped as a wraith for the last ten years and with a body as feeble as that of Quirinus? No, he does not." Snape retorted, a fresh sneer across his face. "The why is irrelevant, Potter. Will you provide your memories or not?"

Holly gazed at Snape with a fierce squint. "No, I will not. My memories are mine and mine alone. If the Headmaster would like a practical demonstration of what I did, I will be happy to recount it." She rose from the chair and turned, quietly shutting the door behind her.

* * *

Snape stared at his office door. Why was it he _always_ received the jobs that made him out as a git?

His Legilimency training kept most of his anger down. But the disrespectful attitude Potter unleashed hit too close to home. It was an attitude too similar to her father's.

Their relationship, the microscopic bridge that it was, was now darkened because of the Headmaster's machinations. He tried to argue with Albus that she would not share, and he refused to listen. Ever since Lily's daughter arrived here, she acted as an enigma. Why would she drop her cards now?

Scowling, he summoned the next essay to his table. The tests were due in two days, and he had yet to start on the fourth-year exams, heaven help them. His bad disposition was sure to drop their below-average marks even further down.

* * *

Daphne slowly awoke in her bed. She basked in the silence granted by the charms on her curtains and lazily took in a deep breath. The clock read a quarter to six, far too early for her to be awake, but her shift demanded her presence in the infirmary.

She slipped open a curtain and carefully dressed, eager to be out of her room and away from her housemates. After her release from the infirmary the other day, she nearly ruined all the goodwill heaped onto her by blasting the common area to bits.

The endless supply of apologies was infuriating. Every single one of the asses who thought they could redeem themselves with a "Hey, sorry I bullied you for a month" could shove their apologies where the sun didn't shine. Whiplash reunions like that did not fly with her.

Susan and Hannah were the only two members of her house she didn't want to singe into little flakes of ash. Hannah, mercifully, left the incident in the library behind her and gave her the final four days off from her politics coaching, and Susan acted in the same vein. She suspected they thought it better to wait until next year to interact with her securely, but their small talk was appreciated, even if she wasn't going to let them know that.

She spent her final days of the year in turns with Holly at Hermione's side. Pomfrey's remedies worked wonders on the brunette's body, erasing all the damage and restoring the girl's nerves. The matron refused to grant the brunette clemency, even with her promise to return every hour if need be.

After Granger's reaction to Pomfrey's offer of closed medical curtains, Daphne knew the snake could not have spent her time in recovery alone. She and Holly, along with a cooperative Lily Moon, kept the haunt of isolation restricted to the night. Her demon, Cresswell, grumbled about maintaining invisibility when Lily took a shift, but he'd just have to get over himself.

Daphne's mind picked through all the possibilities for Granger's desperation. The girl hadn't been with the demon all her life. And her idea of pleasant company did not extend to her pet. Or maybe it wasn't the isolation that made her heart pump, but something else. Claustrophobia, maybe.

At least her fears were manageable. The girl could avoid the small pockets of the world, keep confinement far from her reach. Granger could conceal her fears behind avoidance and choice; she wasn't bound to the whim of fate dashing her fear upon her like she was.

She pushed those thoughts down and checked the clock on the wall again. Eight-thirty-four. Moon was late for her takeover shift.

"You can go on ahead," Granger told her. "I'll be alright."

"Don't have to tell me twice." She rose from the plush chair Pomfrey gave them to sit in. Apparently, McGonagall hadn't dropped by to reverse her transfiguration; Pomfrey's grumbles about needing a new whatever-the-chair-was-previous were not as quiet as the matron thought.

She took the long way back to the dormitory. Although the now good press was useful, the urge to incinerate everyone who tried to make friends off her newfound popularity was not. And while a few names were worth remembering based on their family or personal accomplishments, many of them were not.

As she turned past the bust of Oliver Rumpkin, she nearly collided with Li. The raven looked her up and down as she sidestepped out of the Asian's path. "Excuse me,"

"No harm done," Li responded. The girl turned her eyes away and Daphne waited for a beat before she resumed her path.

"I told my father about your rumors," Li spoke after her first three steps away from the corner. "Given recent events, my father may reconsider your offers of an alliance."

Daphne paused and turned back. "Thank you." She gave Li a small curtsey and waited for her to move out of sight before she turned forward.

Caliban was waiting on the outer edge of her window as she shut the door to her dorm. Once through, he perched on her lamp and raised his leg. She pulled Astoria's latest letter from free and tore the parchment open, her hand too occupied with patting Caliban for her to retrieve her knife.

_Daphne,_

_Narcissa wants me to let you know our time at King's Cross will be short. Lucius is pissed that the bill he's been trying to squash passed; he has spent almost all his time in his study working on loophole ideas or something. He also has a lot more work with the rest of the Board of Governors thanks to you… the only reason he hasn't sent a Howler is that he knows it would reflect badly on him. Prep yourself for an earful once you're home though._

_Narcissa has her lecture to give you, I've heard her practicing it in the library when she thinks nobody is around. I'm guessing it has something to do with your injuries, at least on her end. All the press is saying is good news about the 'new heroes' so… be prepared for her to yell at you about how reckless you were and stuff._

_Don't kill anyone in your last week,_

_Tori_

* * *

Holly drummed her fingers on the table. Her stomach wouldn't stop whining, and the damn luncheon was determined to see her starve. The Leaving Feast was delayed so Professor Snape could retrieve the House Cup from the Slytherin dorms, all under a pretense of "I was convinced we would have pulled ahead." _Close, but no cigar_. In all fairness, they only needed thirty points to reach the ravens, with a similar fate befalling the lions and the badgers. Even with the neck-and-neck tie for second, Gryffindor took second place with eight points, with Slytherin holding a final digit of six to take third, and Hufflepuff taking the last place with a five.

In an homage to the Arriving Feast, the Great Hall was decorated with enormous tablecloths and banners flapped against the ceiling in an invisible breeze. The main difference was the colors. The House-centric designs were all changed to deep blues with brass trim. Fifty or so eagles flew throughout the rafters; conjured by Filius at the start of the banquet. The gemstone tallies were written in the air in front of the House Head's places, and although it hadn't been Gryffindor, many students were content to enjoy the fact that Slytherin was dethroned from their seven-year streak.

Holly watched Hermione from across the Hall. She seemed much better after six days in Pomfrey's care, but she was much more reserved than before. Still, she held her head high with her dormmates as Snape brought forth the coveted House Cup and handed it over to a beaming Professor Flitwick.

She applauded along with many other students as the counts shone brightly. Wild cheers from the ravens and the less competitive classmen, and polite applause from the Slytherins and the less sportsmanlike. Down the table, she spotted Ron Weasley glowering at Percy, who was clapping wildly, no doubt trying to support Penelope.

Then Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Well!" He started his grandfatherly persona in full effect. "Another year has gone! I hope everyone has learned something they find useful. I, for instance, have learned quite a few jokes from the lot of you. There was a particularly clever one about a Roman centurion walking into a speakeasy…" Titters of laughter broke out among the Hall. Holly rolled her eyes. "But now is not quite the time for that."

Dumbledore turned to Flitwick. "And may I congratulate our ravens on their win for the cup." He waited until the cheers died down to continue. "However… taking the events of the last few days into account, there are a few last-minute points I want to add to the counters."

Holly stared at him as half the faces in the Great Hall swiveled to hers. _Goddamnit, he's actually going to tip the scales?_

"When I call your name, please stand." The Headmaster continued, blissfully unaware of the attention and whispers. "Hermione Granger." A few gasps echoed over the turning heads as she carefully rose from her bench. "Daphne Greengrass." Daphne stood; her chin pointed high. "Holly Potter." She closed her eyes and rose, turning to face the podium the Headmaster was standing behind.

"You three have not been the most model students of this year," Dumbledore said. "However, your actions have proven your commitments to goodwill and justice. You have honored this school by protecting the creatures within it from a dastardly poacher, and for that, the school honors you. Each of you, take twenty points."

The students cheered as the tallies soared. Ravenclaw's lead was much thinner, but still in first. Gryffindor now More perceptive students held in their applause, some whispering about "Dumbledore miscounting".

"Although as a warning not to break curfew, each of you will lose five points," Dumbledore added, the corners of his beard turned up. The tallies lowered. "And for stunning three students and sneaking into the greenhouses, a loss of three and two points for the culprits." Again, the numbers lowered. Not there was a true three-way tie, with the lions, badgers, and snakes all at three thousand, four hundred and thirty points each; the ravens barely ahead by ten points.

As the whispers began to rise in volume, Dumbledore raised his hand. "However, no matter how much courage was spent on your adventure, there was a greater display of courage made by three other students. Standing up to your friends is never easy, and on that merit, I award ten points each to Lily Moon, Hannah Abbott, and Neville Longbottom."

Slight bursts of shouts echoed as the three stood. Neville's face was pinking, and he shook from the attention. Hannah's face was pulling off the impression of a ripe tomato. Lily's face was hidden in her hands.

The tallies rotated. Everyone now stood in a four-way tie.

"Who wins the cup?" One of the Weasley twins shouted. The Hall filled with arguments as each house began declaring themselves the winner. Mozu hissed and reared up to launch herself at the nearest offender, Lee Jordan, who had produced the Quidditch microphone from somewhere and was shouting into it. Holly snatched her from the table and wound her familiar around her neck.

A cannon blast echoed from the staff table. Dumbledore's wand tip smoldered as the noise instantly ceased. "With there being a four-way tie, we shall have the fairest and honorable of deciding factors." He waved his wand, creating two velvet pouches and a single galleon. "Heads of Houses, if you would please create seven sickles and two pouches each." Dumbledore turned to his left. "Minerva, if you'll only make the one sickle, please."

As the professors complied, Holly looked over to the Slytherin table. Hermione's hand was in the air, and several of her housemates were staring at her and the shaking Lily. "Headmaster?"

Dumbledore looked over to her as the professors lined up the various pouches. "Yes, my dear?"

"May we sit down?"

The Hall tittered after her question. "If you could wait for a second longer, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, his beard turning up. "After all, each one of you must collect a bag."

The Great Hall was silent at the Headmaster's proclamation. "Miss Chang, Miss… Li." Dumbledore said in the break as he slipped the galleon into one of the pouches McGonagall created. "If you two will be the representatives for Ravenclaw." Both girls stood. Su looked wary, and Chang looked excited.

"And to further prove impartiality," Dumbledore turned to his right. "Professor Errol, if you would shuffle our winnings."

Professor Errol started at the sound of his name but quickly nodded. He straightened his waistcoat as he stood and lifted his wand. "Àiteachan Iomlaid!"

The eight bags floated silently into the air, slowly turning about in slow rotations. The bags picked up speed, turning faster and faster until a small velvet tornado was hovering at the front of the Hall. Holly's eye traced their path; in the eye of the whirlwind, the pouches traded places, sometimes playing an impressive shell game before they fell back into the outer blur.

Errol swished his wand and the pouches dispersed into a line. They hovered in the air until the last was in place and dropped, landing in a line of whump-whump-whump-noises.

"Students, please come choose a bag," Dumbledore said. "No bickering… first come, first served."

Chang moved the quickest. She vaulted over the Ravenclaw table and picked the fourth bag from the left. Li casually made her way after her, taking the second from the right.

Daphne strode forward and took the third pouch from the right. Hermione took the furthest on the left, and Lily took the second furthest. Neville, shaking like a leaf, took the third from the left. Hannah took the pouch on the far right.

Holly walked to the front and took the last pouch on the middle right. She slowly walked back to her seat at the table, as did the others.

"Retrieve your coins," Dumbledore said.

The Great Hall held their breath as the pull-strings were undone.

A cry of disappointment came from the Ravenclaw table. Cho was slumped in her chair, a sickle glaring at her from its place beside her plate. Li looked up from her bag and shook her head.

Hermione undid her pouch and tipped it out. A gleam of silver clinked against her silverware. Lily was slumped in her seat, her shoulders low. Hermione patted her on the shoulder as the Slytherin eyes turned to the remaining players.

Holly looked over at Neville. His eyes stared at her with a glum look as he dropped his sickle into view.

Hannah's smile slid off her face like water off a duck's back. Daphne was frozen, staring into her bag with a blank expression.

The eyes all swiveled to her as the entire hall drew in a breath. Smirking internally, she carefully pulled the strings open all the way and struggled to hold in a laugh as her sickle thudded onto the table. The silence was deafening as her dormmate's smiles vanished and craning necks craned further, shorter students shoving the taller ones aside to see who won.

With trembling fingers, Daphne slowly stood, the galleon winking in her opened palm.

The Hall was silent for a moment before the badgers burst into cheers.

Holly sat back on the bench and smiled as she observed the Hufflepuff contingent swarmed their benefactor, knocking aside crockery and benches and their pumpkin-juice goblets. With thumps on the back and raucous screaming, Daphne Greengrass was surrounded by her housemates' cheers as the banners and tablecloths faded from their morose blue to the rejuvenating yellow. Hannah's arms were around Daphne's throat, her other housemates jumping up and down around her, and the shock and annoyance flickered away from her friend's face to savor the moment. Cedric Diggory made his way through the horde and (despite Daphne's protests) lifted her onto his shoulder, holding her tall against the limelight as the eagles overhead transfigured into airborne badgers, scuttling about the rafters. The Gryffindors cheered alongside the Hufflepuffs, broken from their shock that Dumbledore gave up the chance to put his old house on a pedestal, and the Weasley twins fired off a series of bottle-rockets, quickly charming their intended red sparks to change yellow. The Slytherins clapped politely, and the Ravens were torn between cheers and polite (if decidedly unhappy) applause.

Even though she knew Daphne would forever deny she had smiled that day, Holly still caught the corners of her mouth turning up as Dumbledore handed her the House Cup. Sprout sobbed tears of joy on McGonagall's shoulder and Daphne held the coveted trophy in her arms, her icy façade laid aside, for now, for one small celebration of purpose and belonging.

* * *

Holly sighed as she stared up at Hogwarts. Hagrid would soon arrive with the carriages, and they would soon be headed to Hogsmeade to board the Express and return to London. Her heart and mind were full of a deeply buried longing, a longing she had never felt among all her travels, and especially not when she had been in the care of the Dursleys. The closest feeling had been her apprenticeship in Romania, or the previous summer she had spent at the Leaky with Hermione.

She turned at the sound of her friend's approaching footsteps. "Hey," the brunette offered.

"Hey," she replied. She raised her eyebrow at the red stains Hermione siphoned off her front. "Went on a last-minute troll hunt, did you?"

"No," Hermione said as she spelled the last of the stains away. "Cress wanted to hunt down Quirrell's iguana."

"It looked delicious," Cress said. "It _was_ delicious."

"Good for you, Cress," Holly said as she gave one last glance to the parapets of stone. She turned away as Hermione turned in a circle. "Did I get all of it?"

"You got it." The two walked down the path to join the rest of the students by the gate.

"We should have taken that secret passage to Hogsmeade." She grumbled as they made their way down the sloping lawn. "It would have prevented us from being bottlenecked with everyone else."

"It would have also raised questions about how we made it there without being seen on a carriage." Hermione shook her head as they neared the mass of remaining students. "You would have received the attention you don't want; we'd have to coordinate a lie…"

"Like that would be a challenge,"

"And I'm not allowed to over-exert myself." Hermione reminded her as they approached the rest of the students.

"Last carriages; everyone on?!" Hagrid bellowed as the thestrals returned for their final circuit. "Last carriages; either yeh board now or we'll hafta ship yeh outta here in a postal box-Holly!" She turned as her man stepped toward her and pulled her into a crushing hug. "There yeh are! What're yeh takin' so long fer now, yeh already stopped the poacher."

"We took the scenic route," Holly replied as Hermione moved to pick a carriage.

Hagrid chuckled. "Course yeh did." He looked over her shoulders and bent down conspiratorially. "I got someun for yeh." He opened his overcoat and pulled out a small book with a red leather binding. "Figured I'd do you one better than tha' sweater I tried to knit yeh for Yule."

She opened the book. Inside was several parchment pages of a smiling couple. The woman possessed the same red hair and green eyes a shade away from her own. The man gave the photographer her crooked grin and mussed-up hair, with round-framed glasses slipping down his nose.

"I sent word to everyone I could think o' tha' knew 'em," Hagrid said. "Charmed 'em together and got Pince teh bind it up for me."

Holly looked up at him, smiling. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Hagrid beamed. "Now, best get aboard befer the rest of the students start fussin' at me. Can't miss the train." He straightened up as she stepped on the carriage platform.

"Forward!" Hagrid bellowed. The thestrals straightened and started their journey, trotting forward in rows of two.

Holly passed Hermione the book and opened the door back. She held onto the bars on the roof of the carriage with one hand, her feet planted firmly on the step up. Her bangles jangled as she waved her free arm back at the groundskeeper. "So long!"

"See yeh next year!" Hagrid called out as the carriages began to pick up speed. She swung back inside and shut the door.

They reached the train ten minutes before it was to set off and spent most of the ride discussing their summer plans before Holly decided to sleep off their early morning wake-up while Hermione read.

Holly was awakened by a soft rapping on the windowpane. She sat up and turned her head to see Daphne outside.

She undid her spell and sat up as Daphne entered. "What's up?"

Daphne hesitated. "I wanted to say thanks." She whispered. "You two helped me retrieve my reputation as a future leader back with the whole… corridor adventure." She looked up from the floor. "And even if I don't plan on forgiving my dormmates who were cruel to me after the forest fiasco… I can forgive you." She looked Holly in the eyes, then Hermione. "We good?"

Holly nodded. "We're good."

"Cool." The pureblood hesitated again. "Can you two avoid sending owls over the summer? I'm still staying with the Malfoys, and they aren't your biggest fans. Corrupting their hard work and all that."

"No problem," Holly said, glancing at Hermione. "Will you still be able to talk to us?"

Daphne shook her head. "Not unless you have a phone."

"We can probably buy one," Hermione said. "Holly's rich."

"Right," Daphne said. She took Holly's arm and fished her wand from in her robes. "Give me your arm."

Holly froze. The silence went on for a second too long before she raised it. Daphne didn't give her a second glance as she took her wand and murmured "Fluxus Atramento". Her wand tip soaked itself in black ink, which she quickly began to push across Holly's arm. It tickled.

"Here's my burner. Call me if there's an emergency, or you're attacked or something." She cast a drying spell, leaving the inky numbers tattooed onto Holly's skin.

She stowed her wand and turned to leave as Holly twisted her arm to examine the numbers. "See you next year, Holly," Daphne said, opening the compartment door. "Hermione." The door shut behind her with a click.

"Who does she think I'll be attacked by?" Holly said out loud as she tried to memorize the numbers.

"Who knows?" Hermione said, looking at Holly. "You okay? You flinched."

Holly stopped looking at the numbers and pulled her head up. "I'm fine." She said quietly. _New topic, new topic… ah. _"Did you notice how she addressed you?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's almost like we're friends."

"She didn't say goodbye to meee," Cresswell pouted.

Holly shook her head and laid back out against the seats as she thought about her old home. _Nearly there, _she thought to herself as she looked out at the landscape racing by as she left her new one. _Lots to do._

* * *

**Boredguy's Grimoire:**

**Àiteachan Iomlaid: Places of Exchange, Gaelic spell: Propels objects into the air to spin and swap places with each other with relative ferocity. Not advised for containers as it will exchange the items within them randomly.**

**Fluxus Atramento: Flow, ink; Creates an ink flow from the caster's wand that dries quickly. The spell fades if the ink is not connected to a surface within ten seconds of being cast or last touching a surface.**


	18. Come to Call

**Chapter 18: Come to Call**

* * *

****Reviewer Responses****

**Weirdhead: Sorry about that. **You joined this journey at the worst moment (so far).

**Fast Frank, & The Shadows Mistress: **Thank you for your praise. You three are some of the first reviewers and most consistent readers I've had so far. Shouts out to you.

**JohnMonty: **I can finally answer that question of yours from six months ago now that I have changed the story. Originally, yes, the fire was intentionally set. Now… no, it wasn't. The new idea I've had about it is drastically different from my previous one, but you were right on the money with the first (now defunct) plan. Sorry for the bait and switch, but I have drastically been revamping the earlier chapters so they aren't as terrible, and basically all of Daphne's origin was changed.

**A friend in need is a friend in debt.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

"And here's the ham steak," Tom said as he placed the final plate on the table. "Take care, Lenny."

Tom checked the large grandfather clock as he walked back to the counter, his meal platter under his arm. It was well into the morning now, nine past ten.

It wasn't often that Tom could be surprised. The man had been a barman ever since he was sixteen (a lie that had yet to catch up to him) and had seen nearly every type of incident imaginable. Within that realm of knowledge lay his knowledge of every turnabout, every "my bad mate, no worries, eh?" and "Never mind me, what's say we let it lie for the night?" possible. And no number of sudden attitude-adjustments fit the profile for the one that had occurred to Holly Potter.

When she had shown up at his inn the previous summer, he hardly knew what to think. The long-lost savior of the wizarding world, supposed to be in deep hiding to avoid detection from the unsavory people potentially after her, was seated in his bar, long after the family hours were over. She took a room and a great many handshakes and developed a routine as a playful, cocky child, eager to experience and awfully witty. She would wake early and sleep late, and her snake would always be on her shoulders among her hovering bangles. She avoided the public, but not the outdoors, and she possessed a deep-seated love for chocolate frogs.

The Holly Potter that was within his bar was nothing of the sort. It was as if the old Holly had died and a new one took her place. The new Holly was quiet, polite, and rarely spoke. She must have taken a tip from Alastor's book, as she only drank from her canteen. Although the same snake was always with her, they no longer seemed as connected. Her bangles were rarely on her person, and her cadence and gait were entirely different from last year.

Tom supposed it had something to do with the whole services to the school hullabaloo that was in the Prophet. Holly and two of her friends were catalysts in the prevention of a massive theft by a criminal poacher, a poacher who had been quietly deported to his country of origin, good riddance. But unless the horrors were particularly severe, she shouldn't have changed, not to the degree she had.

Tom checked the clock again. Eighteen passed.

A full half-hour spun around the clock face before the guest on his mind made herself present. "Good morning, Mister Tom." She said as she gracefully took a seat at the bar. "The usual, please."

"Coming right up," Tom said as he started to cook the girl's usual order. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her slip from her stool to change her seat to the stairwell alcove. _Out of sight, but not out of mind._

He sighed to himself as she cooked her usual order. At least that hadn't changed, the girl was still eating enough.

After her food was assembled, he walked it over to her, like he always did. An idea slipped into his head. "Where's your friend from last year?" He asked as he placed her sausage on the table. "Have a falling out?"

Holly waited until he was done before she answered. "No, we're still good friends. She had something to take care of in muggle London?" The girl frowned as she turned her neck up at him. "Relative stuff? She didn't really want to talk about it."

"Understandable," Tom nodded to her as she started in on her eggs. "Well, you let me know if you need anything else."

She swallowed. "Thank you, sir,"

Tom walked back to the counter as an idea turned over in his head. The flask. The changes. The friend who matched this new Holly in every mannerism. Miss Granger, the friend who was conveniently missing.

Holly wasn't different at all. She was missing, herself.

* * *

Holly landed on her feet at a bad angle. She stumbled and managed to avoid a faceplant. Her balance was nearly tipped past the line of no return, but she managed to catch it and avoid a stumble headlong into a tree.

She centered herself and looked around. Thick forest surrounded her on all sides, with trees shadowed into black and blue shapes in the night sky. Insects and wildlife hummed around her, and she could smell the earthiness of the dirt.

"Florin?" She turned back and forth under the night sky.

"You're late." She turned around to see nothing behind her except the forest. "Come now, don't tell me you've already lost your senses." Her head tilted back to see the man of the hour seated on a tree branch. His head rested against his hands and his legs were hidden by the leaves.

"Not entirely," she told him as he straightened and slipped to the ground. His dark jeans nearly blended in with the dark woods around him, although his white button-up prevented total assimilation into the woods. His cross pendant bounced against his chest as he rose.

He lifted his arm and created a small orb of light above them. His face was illuminated in an instant, with his self-satisfied smile and gold earring winking at her in the light. "How was the trip?"

"I enjoyed it," she replied as she strode to keep pace with him. "I visited Spain and Sweden. And I went back to England for a year."

Florin looked over his shoulder at her. "A prodigal daughter returned home?"

"Yes," she shrugged. She couldn't tell if he was commenting on her return to England or her return to him was the prodigal journey, but it didn't matter. Florin often talked around the point. "How's it been without me? You didn't find a replacement, did you?"

"Not yet." He shuffled to the side and guided the light forward. "Here we are."

Holly watched as the orb floated into the sky in front of them, illuminating Florin's old Winnebago. The light burst into small dots that floated lazily into positions above several sigils carved into the thick grass. The sigils hummed as they began to glow, the wards reset to welcome her presence.

As Florin strode to his door, she walked to the front of the camper to pet Ioana's flank. Florin's pegasus had been with the old man before she had, and served as the man's familiar and dearest friend. Ioana nuzzled her free hand and snorted at her touch.

"Has he been good while I've been gone?" She whispered to her.

Ioana whined and tugged at her rein. Holly contemplated undoing the tie from the camper's fender so Ioana could graze further. She decided against it to pet underneath Ioana's soft wings as she stepped away to move inside.

The interior of Florin's camper was the same as when she left. Red curtains blocked out the windows, and a disorganized pile of random materials was scattered in between polished wooden cabinets. Several wisps provided light sources around the room, trapped in rune-laden jars, and stuck into the lightbulb sockets of antique lamps. Florin's bed sat in the far-left area of the trailer; a pile of tomes wedged between its headboard and the wall.

Across from the bed stood Florin's temple to Saint Sarah (or Sarah-la-Kali, as Florin would say) looked unchanged, with the portrait giving her a nod of recognition as her eyes fell on it. The shrine looked relatively unchanged beyond a few item shuffles. Florin's bag, stamped with the sign of the Solomonari, hung from a cabinet-knob to the right of it, with his golden reins halfway tucked into the satchel.

Her eyes flowed passed the door to the magically expanded bathroom to examine the desk he had salvaged from somewhere, his stave resting on the back edge. She didn't bother trying the drawers and instead gave the top pile of parchment and journals a once over. _Just as disorganized as my last visit_.

The hiss of an opened bottle snagged her away from her comparison chart. She turned to see him shut the fridge, a bottle of sugarcane soda in his hand. "Want one?"

"No thank you," she replied as she slid into the green chaise booth-table opposite him. Several maps and charts were spread out beneath the table: sigil diagrams, inked and reinked charts, and a topography map for Arges County.

Florin set his soda aside and picked up a quill to work. She waited patiently for a few minutes, examining what pieces of the parchment tablecloth she could make out when a pattern leaped through her memory to remind her of her year at Hogwarts.

"You were right, you know."

Florin didn't look up. "About?"

"The soul piece that was inside me. It wasn't the only one after all."

Florin deposited the quill in a jar and took a swig of his soda. "Enlighten me,"

Holly told him about her run-in with Voldemort's wraith. About the fight she had with Quirrell and how the wraith fled once the man's body was decimated.

Florin listened closely through her recount. When she finished his brow was set in a firm scowl. "Who is in charge of Hogwarts today?"

"Albus Dumbledore."

"The man of Grindelwald's war?"

"The very same," she said as Florin inhaled deeply. "His ineptitude has only grown, based on how he carries himself now. Either that, or he's gone senile."

Florin shook his head. "Both scenarios are unlikely. He has always carried himself with an air of incompetence since his limelight as a hero faded. He acts differently when with the ICW, much more statesmanlike."

She took a minute to digest this. "Any advice for dealing with him?" She tried as Florin drummed his fingers on the table. He shook his head.

"Any other revelations?" He asked as he lifted his quill to mark at the paper in front of him some more.

"I found out who left me with my relatives."

Florin paused his hand and looked her in the eye. "They didn't make trouble for you, did they?"

"Didn't even know I was there," she replied. "Apparently, Mr. Dumbledore was the man who placed me with them."

"Did he try to make you return to them?" asked Florin, steel in his tone.

She shook her head. "My experiences managed to convince him that would not make for a suitable arrangement."

Florin exhaled deeply. "If he makes trouble for you, you owl me." He said shortly. "I may not be your blood father, but I will fight for your well-being if it is needed."

She smiled at the small display of affection. Her own story of familial hatred was like his own when you looked at the broad details of it. Although she had been spurned from the moment she could remember, his expulsion took longer, appearing only once he refused to abandon his 'fascination with unclean practices', otherwise known as magic. He was removed from Roma society, his whole community against him, and sent away to never return. Until she landed on his trailer four years ago, he had spent almost all his life alone.

Even though she never picked up the Romanipen, Florin treated her like his equal, two souls against the wicked world, alternating between the roles of a mentor, a father, and a friend as the mood struck him or as the moment demanded. The fatherly ones were the fewest and furthest between the three, but this was a nice moment for one to shine. Especially given how she had left.

She was jarred from her thoughts as he snapped her fingers. "You are wondering about why I called you here, aren't you?"

_Might as well be. _Holly nodded.

Florin smiled. "You have three questions," he chuckled as he raised a second soda bottle to his lips.

_This old game_. She tried to avoid breathing out her nose. Florin's self-satisfied smirk indicated she didn't manage to prevent that.

One of the many ways Florin had taught her was through this question-answer game of his. She was given three questions, and he would provide three answers. If she still had questions after all his answers, she would have to do without the information until the next time he said the dreaded phrase.

_You have three questions._

"Are we leaving Romania to complete this task?" Might as well figure out if they were headed to a giant colony again.

Florin shook his head and raised his thumb. One down.

"Is it for mercenary work or am I here for a hunt?" Please let it be mercenary work, please let it be mercenary work…

"A hunt." Florin raised a second finger.

Hunting in Romania… certainly lowers my options. Either it's a left-field creature or it's part of his crusade again. Her eyes searched the room in a blur, spying bits of metal and hawthorn in too many jars for it to be a coincidence. "Am I the bait?"

"Yes," Florin raised his middle finger. "Have you figured it out, then?"

"Yes," she responded. "We're going after a moroi."

"Moroaciă, actually." Thu-dum. Thu-dum. Florin's fingers were drumming on the table again. "She hasn't been alive long. Only three reports so far." Florin tapped the table twice and the papers shuffled around. Two newspaper headlines surfaced, both written in Romanian. She only managed to catch one of the headlines 'Hiker found dead in Stan's Valley' before is sunk into the shifting pieces of parchment on tha table.

"Then, I talk with the locals, and they're whispering about all the dead animals piling up. Sheep drained in the fields. Much more roadkill than usual. A few even spoke of some beauty that appears along the distant road at night. She tries to flag them down, and with all the dead animals and the two missing humans, they aren't keen to stop." A journal emerged from the whirlwind. The pages turned themselves too quick for her to read it, and it fell back into the rest of the horde.

"And then, one of our kind goes missing," A magical newsprint appeared this time. The picture displayed a pale corpse with two punctures in the side of his neck. "All of this happened within the month. She has been busy."

"Because it isn't just her," Holly said, looking up as she caught on. "You think there is a strigoi controlling her?"

"Highly likely," Florin told her. "I'm not certain, not yet, but I think I have got a devised a way for us to find out."

The parchment on the table stopped shuffling as a thick piece rose. An elaborate sigil design was inked onto it. The same design they used to cleanse her soul four years ago.

"I took the ritual we made for you and have combined it with other elements. We'll adjust the finer spokes and make the trap in the next two days, and then, we will catch it." Florin spoke with the battle-worn voice of a warrior. "You have not turned onto your back during your time away from me, correct?"

She shot him a glare. "Of course not."

"Good; then you can still serve as our bait." Florin cut across her. He rose from the dinette and summoned the jars of wisps from around the room. He placed them inside of a cabinet. "Did you bring your mat?"

"Yes," she cast a Lumos spell through her bangles as Florin fumbled over to his bed. "I suppose I couldn't trouble you for some mustard seeds?"

"I already placed them outside," Florin said. The creaks of his mattress told her he was already lying down, and she hurried to unroll her mat. "If you are truly worried, there is a jar of them in the fridge."

She crept along the floor and cracked it open. Aside from sugarcane sodas, Florin's pantry was slim. An ice tray without any ice cubes or water, a jar of pickles, some horseradish, and half a loaf of expired cozonac.

Holly plucked the container of mustard seeds from the fridge and shut the door as quietly as she could. Once beside her mat, she undid the lid and poured the little nuts out in a circle around her bed onto the floor. "You will clean those up tomorrow," Florin said from across the room.

Ignoring the idea of returning the seeds to the fridge, she set them on the stovetop and carefully stepped into the circlet she had created. Her bangles found a home within her bag as she slipped underneath her covers.

* * *

The next morning saw Holly awake with the dawn. As was typical of her before the end of her apprenticeship, she left Florin to his snoring to enjoy the fresh air.

The early dew caused the grass to swish beneath her feet as she walked to Ioana, waking the pegasus with gentle pats and a soft voice. As soon as she fully awoke, Holly gently undid the reins and led her away from the camper to the denser grass that grew on the edge of the ward line.

As Ioana dutifully grazed, Holly slowly pulled herself into the full sense of being awake. The realization of her situation overtook her. She was here to hunt a moroaciă, to help Florin in his crusade against the dark creatures of the world.

She didn't mind his fight against the darkness. Even if her distaste for it led to the end of her apprenticeship, she still understood why he did it. A thirst to prove his worth; to the Solomonari, to himself, to his family who would never appreciate it.

She had asked him once, why he did what he did, why she needed to train to do what he did. Her question froze him for a brief ten seconds before his answer came. 'It needs to be done.' Bull.

Their fight on the subject had been intense. She had disagreed with him on one little facet of their exterminations, and the blowout had been fierce. He had rescinded her right to stay with him the next day and asked her to be gone by the end of the week. She was so angry at him that she had left within the hour.

The truth was, not every monster he— they— had killed deserved it. Sure, some were living beyond their means, slaughtering with gleeful abandon. Some of the creatures they had hunted were truly wild animals, while others were mindless husks, driven insane by their desire to feed. But others weren't so terrible. Others were just… people, struggling to survive as she had. The unfortunate passerby who had been turned into a monster without their consent, who didn't know what they did after they went to bed. Those were the ones who didn't deserve it, who should have been offered help instead of hatred.

She wasn't going to mention it to him. His letter to her was an invitation to forget the past at the best and ignore it at the worst.

Holly sighed. She hoped this moroaciă deserved it.

* * *

Daphne stared out the window of the fast-moving bus. Her chaise chair jostled with every turn. Astoria giggled from beside her as the next bump lifted them from their seat for a few seconds of airtime. _At least she enjoys this stupid deathtrap._

Her return to Malfoy Manor went better than expected. Narcissa's lecture went on for the good part of an hour, with praise over her actions for readying the groundwork for future networking among the light and neutral sects of the Wizengamot and anger over her reckless endangerment of herself. Lucius entered as Narcissa was finally winding down and tossed in his own spin on lowering herself to interact with a pair of half-bloods.

If they found out about her adventure today, there would be hell to pay.

But they wouldn't. She had readied Astoria as soon as Lucius announced he was taking Draco for some personal business in Diagon. With Narcissa trapped inside a societal obligation in Lucius's place, they would be the only ones to know they had left.

Their chair slid into a divider as the Knight Bus rounded a full one-eighty, the brakes nearly sending their sofa into the one before them. "Is your stop, innit?" The conductor said as he peered over his copy of the Daily Prophet at them. "Tyneside Park?"

She gave him a nod and led Astoria off the bus. "Take care!" The idiot hollered at her as the bus raced away. At least the stupid dashboard bobblehead hadn't cracked a joke about her parents this time.

"How far off a walk is it?" Astoria asked from beside her.

"Thirty minutes." She took a deep breath, schooling herself to disregard the odd itch that tingled in the back of her mind. They would not walk past the husk where the Blind Tiger once stood. Astoria was _not_ going to face that pit today.

The cargo warehouse flickered as they crossed the ward line, the simulation she had woven into the wards fading as they entered. The building changed from a condemned appearance to one of much less severe (if still apparent) neglect.

"Look who finally decided to visit me." Nikki's voice rang from the top of the stairwell. Astoria squealed with glee and raced up the stairs into her arms. Nikki grunted as she tackled her into a hug. "How have you been, Tori?"

Daphne followed as Nikki led her sister into the office area. Nikki had done a good job fixing up the office into what passed for a home. The enormous catalog of ship manifests papered the walls, no doubt to retain heat. A few pieces of flea-market furniture laid against the far wall, with all the filing cabinets but one missing. The last remaining cabinet lay on its side, a piece of strain-board laid across it to construct a table. The clothes and most of the other items she had provided at Christmas were stacked on the long metal table, and the torches that had once been taped to the overhead lamps were relocated to places throughout the room.

She stood next to the long table as Astoria talked about what it was like living with the Malfoys. She smirked at Astoria's venting; her sister had no idea how hard it would be to maintain constant poise and grace once she joined her at Hogwarts.

Nikki listened intently to Astoria's tales, laughing at the mention of Lucius's peacocks, and appropriately reacting to the mountain of information her sister dumped on her. While she was distracted, Daphne unloaded the items she had procured from Eban before they left.

When her sister finally quieted, she turned to see Nikki's eyes on her. "Couldn't fool you for a second, could I?" Daphne asked.

Nikki smiled. "You didn't really need to subject me to Tori for so long just to fail at secretly setting up a birthday cake, did you?"

Daphne shrugged and stepped aside to present the food. It wasn't much, a mere half of a cake that had been leftover from the Malfoy's 'welcome home' celebration, but it would suffice. "Worth a shot?"

Nikki laughed it off and walked over to sit on a clear area of the table. "I mean it, Daphne," she looked up to see Nikki's elated grin. "A call would have been enough."

"Shut up and make your wish already," Daphne demanded, lifting the lighter she had given Nikki at Christmas to light the solitary candle. Astoria giggled.

With Nikki's wish complete, they served themselves. Nikki took a shine to the butterbeer, but Astoria pushed hers away to nick one of Nikki's sodas, having gone without the taste of real sugar and caffeine since they entered the care of the Malfoys. Daphne told a few snippets of her time at school, most of her stories aimed at highlighting the idiosyncrasies of the Wizarding World.

"So, rather than provide convenient routes so everyone can make it to class on time," Nikki clarified as she popped the cork off her second bottle of butterbeer. "Instead, the staircases can just… move, whenever they feel like it, even if someone is already on them?"

"Yep," Daphne popped the 'p' with a flourish. "If they move right when you were about to reach the correct landing, you can either jump or hope there's a secret passage close enough to help you to class on time."

"Tell her about the cerberus you fought," Astoria said as she swallowed another bite of cake.

Nikki's mouth dropped open. "A cerberus? Like from Greek mythology?"

"Pretty much. And I didn't fight it, Astoria. We played it some music and it fell asleep." Astoria stuck her tongue out at her.

"We?" asked Nikki, a smug lilt to her voice. "Daphne, are you making friends?"

She rolled her eyes. "Hard to believe, is it?"

"Knowing you? Absolutely," Nikki's smirk softened. "That's good though. That you've found people you like in the magic world." She grimaced. "That sounds so awkward to say."

Daphne refrained commentary, replaying the words _people you like _in her head. While she had never been the best judge of character for friends, she liked to think she didn't need an extensive circle. Though a group of two hardly counted as a circle. Or was it three, counting Hermione's demon?

The buzz of her burner grounded her from her thoughts. She glanced at the caller ID and paled.

She glanced up as the phone buzzed a second time. Astoria and Nikki were both looking at her, the conversation dead in the water. "I need to take this," she rose, backing out of the room and down the perforated stairwell.

The burner flipped open with a click. She pressed 'answer'. "Hey, Rook."

"Daphne," his voice was warm, warmer than she remembered it being like when they left. "I had a feeling you hadn't changed the number. Sentiment for me?"

"I just keep paying for more calls." She really didn't want to talk to him right now. Her palm felt clammy as she wrapped her free arm around her chest. The prickling in her thighs made her heart beat fast. "What do you want, Rook?"

"Can't a guy want to check on an old friend?" He chuckled. "I've been trying to figure out your last known address, but it seems Nik's didn't keep your sentimental feelings."

"Guess not." She waited for him to keep talking. He didn't. "What do you want?" She repeated.

Rook sighed into the phone. "Maybe I just wanted to catch up with you. You still around, or did you follow Nik as far as you three could go?"

"I haven't seen Nikki in a year." She waited, rubbing her hand against her arm, hoping he would take the lie. "But no, I'm not in the area. We're… not in England anymore." She shuddered at his curse. "Look, if you're trying to pull me back into your operations, it's a no."

"I might've been planning to offer that, too." He paused. "If you're still scared of what happened last time…"

"I'm not scared of that," she snapped at him. "I'm not coming back to that life, Rook. Neither of us are. We've made it without you… without it, for the last two years." She fought to keep her voice steady. "We don't need it anymore. I don't need its—your—control anymore."

Rook was silent. "Tell Nik I said happy birthday."

The dial tone hummed in her ear.

She closed the burner. Quarter-past two. Slipping it back into her pocket, she wiped the tear from her face and made her way back up the stairs.

Astoria kept her gaze planted on the floor, the tension in her shoulders making Daphne's heart sag. Nikki's eyes quickly analyzed her state. "Was it him?"

Daphne nodded. "He says happy birthday."

Nikki's eyes narrowed. "That asshole hasn't tried to wish me happy birthday in three years, and is dropping in a message out of the blue just for me?"

Daphne shook her head. "He… he wants me back." Astoria's head jerked up to look at her, but Daphne kept her gaze focused on Nikki.

"What did you say?" She asked carefully.

Daphne sat back into the chair she had been in previously. It already had lost the warmth from her body heat, wobbling onto its back leg before the equilibrium forced it back onto its front two. "I told him to stuff it."

Nikki snorted at that, while Astoria snickered. "You need to get a new burner," her sister commented.

Daphne sighed. "I'll change it before school starts again." She shook herself from the chill that had invaded the cheer of the party and picked up her bag. "We need to go now if we're going to make it back to the Manor before Lucius and Draco."

Astoria pouted, begrudgingly rising to her feet, and Nikki nodded. "I hope you manage to avoid a lecture." She hugged Daphne first, kissing her on her forehead, then bent down to do the same with Astoria. "Be good, Tori."

"It's not like I have a choice," Astoria grumbled as they walked from the cargo complex into the afternoon sunlight. Daphne chose to save that discussion for another time as she pulled out her wand and held it over the road.

The Knight Bus exploded into view and the two swiftly boarded. Soon they were on their way to the Manor, Daphne's face watching the blur through the window, waiting for the warmth of Astoria's head on her shoulder to banish the cold Rook had punched into her with his stupid call.

She really needed to pick up a new burner.

* * *

Hermione sighed as she walked down the streets of Diagon Alley. Holly's plan for the pair of them to swap places for the week had worked to an ungodly degree of perfection. With a muddy brown potion that tasted like overcooked cabbage mixed with the consistency of a milkshake, Hermione could transform into Holly for an entire hour. She kept careful watch over the passage of the potion while in public, a camper's canteen around her neck so she could ingest a sip when the clock ran thin.

Holly refused to tell her how much seven days of the Polyjuice potion cost. Hermione hadn't asked after the first refusal. Her suspicions ran along the line that the price was rather steep, given how little information she could find on the potion within Flourish and Blotts.

Her initial concerns about perfectly mimicking Holly's mannerisms were proven unnecessary. Aside from Tom, no one else seemed to have caught on to her change in demeanor. She still refused to enter Gringotts, unsure how the goblins would react to an impersonation, regardless of if the original person provided consent to their likeness.

She spent most of her time in her room, Cress uncloaked above her and Mozu basking in the ambient heat Cress provided, entwined around the loose chunks that made up his stomach region. Hermione hadn't ever felt heat emanating from the area before, but it made Mozu happy to curl up there, and her knowledge about snakes led her to assume that heat was the answer for her behavior.

The few ventures she made into the public domain were nerve-wracking, and not because she was impersonating a celebrity. Everywhere she went she could feel the stares from passerby—some, like the gazes from Tom or Florean Fortescue, could be chalked up to well-meaning, look-out-for-a-young-girl's-safety-stares, while others followed her movement with adoration in their eyes, children and young adults alike, whispering with excitement about their luck to catch a glimpse of _the _Girl-Who-Lived.

It was exhausting.

Just before five o'clock on the third day since Holly's departure, she made her way into Diagon and slipped inside of Ollivander's storefront. The man had asked for a check-up on her wand, and with half her booklist read, she needed a distraction.

The bell chimed as the door shut behind her, the air permeated with the smell of dust. Fewer wand boxes coated the entrance area this time, allowing a marble top table to peer out along the left wall. "Mister Ollivander?"

"We're soon too close," Ollivander's voice echoed from behind the shelves. "If you need to purchase a wand, I'm afraid it will have to…" He paused as he emerged, no doubt recognizing the mask she was wearing. "Miss Potter. How may I be of service to you?"

"I'm not Miss Potter, Mister Ollivander." She admitted as she extended her arm to him. He walked to the counter and carefully took it in hand, rolling the wood between his fingers.

"Vinewood and Grim tendon, eleven inches." He turned his eyes from his creation to look at her. "Here for the check-up, Miss Granger?"

She nodded. Ollivander nodded back. "I won't ask you about the particulars of why you have borrowed Miss Potter's face." He said slowly as he passed the wand back over the counter. "Give me a minute to find a quill."

She turned and sat in the spindly-legged chair as he stooped down to shuffle within the underside of his desk. "Has business been good?" She asked as he pulled a length of parchment onto the table. "It seems like there are fewer wands out here than there were when I first visited."

Ollivander fluttered his hand dismissively. "Very few wands are sold outside of the summer months, Miss Granger. I am more inclined to tidy my shelves during autumn; and less inclined to climb my shelves again and again towards summer's end." He pulled an inkwell and a quill onto the countertop. "I am no spring chicken."

She didn't give him a response as he cleared his throat. "Now, has your wand experienced any problems? Misfires, overpowered spells, anything of the sort?"

"Not at all,"

His quill scratched in her answers. "Any humming sensation, or burning in your fingers?"

"No."

Ollivander nodded. "And no feelings of over-exertion while completing spells, no sudden weight in your body after casting?"

"No, sir."

He nodded; his brow furrowed. "Would you mind terribly if I borrowed your wand for the next few days? To examine it more thoroughly." He straightened, his eyes peering at her like glass marbles.

Hermione pursed her lips. Handing over her wand meant a few days with no defense to her aside from Cress. On the other hand, it wasn't like she would particularly need anything to defend herself with. She spent nearly all of her time inside the Leaky Cauldron as it was. Barring an attack in the middle of the night, or a sudden need to call the Knight Bus, she wouldn't really need it.

Reluctantly, she walked to the counter and handed over her wand. Ollivander nodded to her as he summoned an empty box from the recesses of his stock to lay her wand in. "Should I owl you when my examination is finished?"

"A note to Tom would suffice; I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron." She told him. "Although you should probably ask for Holly if you do, I'm supposed to be her for another few days."

Ollivander nodded to her as she turned to leave. "Take care, Miss Granger."

"It won't be so bad without it," Cress said as they passed through the floor area of the Cauldron to their room. "You can still read and write your essays."

"I know Cress," she replied, both appreciative and dismissive of his words. "But it still feels weird to be without it."

She turned her key and opened to door to see something seated on her bed. Mozu writhed in the air, hissing furiously at the creature as it eyed the snake in wonder. "An interesting hullabaloo…" the creature mumbled to itself.

"Excuse me," Hermione said rather forcefully. The creature spun around, his hand flinging Mozu through the air. She dived forwards and caught the snake just in time as Mozu spit what must have been curses in Parseltongue.

"What was that for?" She glared at the creature as he shrunk in on himself. She laid Mozu in the hamper and turned around to see the creature beating its head on the headboard.

"Bad Dobby… bad Dobby…"

Hermione tilted her head as she examined the beast. Its skin was a shade of pink reminiscent of sphynx cat, wrinkled and wrapped in what seemed to be a pillowcase that needed a good wash. Pretending it was salvageable, of course. Its long nose looked like a pencil and its body possessed a stark resemblance to the Gringotts goblins in overall shape, although this thing had floppy bat ears that pointed out from the sides of its head and eyes the size of tennis balls.

"Is your name Dobby?" asked Hermione.

The creature stopped his assault on himself and looked up at her. "Yes," he said, in a tentative voice about the same pitch as a tea-kettle whistle. "Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf."

Hermione nodded. "Pleased to meet you. Why are you in my room, throwing my snake, Dobby?"

Dobby's lip trembled. "Apologies, Holly Potter. Many apologies. But…" Dobby wrung his hands. "Dobby must be warning Holly. He must!"

"Warn me about what?" Dobby paced back and forth on the bedspread. He seemed to be working up the nerve to speak, but his grip continuously slipped. "Warn me about what, Dobby?" She repeated, much more sharply.

Dobby wilted. "Terrible things are being set into motion, Holly Potter. Terrible things, set about to destroy the ones of new, to enact terrible things within Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"What sorts of terrible things?" Hermione asked. "And how are you privy to them?"

"I only know of the events of before," Dobby said as tears streamed down his face. "Stories told by my master, who is seeking to continue with terri—" Halfway through the word, Dobby choked and leaped from the bed to the nightstand. He lifted the lamp and began rapping his knuckles with the tubing. "Bad Dobby, bad Dobby, bad…"

Hermione left her head titled, observing the display with a twitch of pity. She walked around the bed and gently pulled the lamp from Dobby's grasp. "Must you hurt yourself?" She asked as she returned the lamp to its place.

"Dobby must," replied Dobby, a glum expression on his face. "Dobby must be a good elf. Mustn't speak bad of his master, or Dobby will have to take on more punishments." Dobby let out a faint giggle.

_Punishments for speaking ill. And here I thought I'd left that barbaric system behind at St. Agnes. _Hermione's sympathy grew.

She sat on the edge of the bed. "Is there anything else you can tell me about the terrible things?" She asked as Dobby mumbled about shutting his ears in the kitchen oven. A bubbling sensation began to form on her skin, and a glance at her watch confirmed her hour was nearly up. _I need to get him to leave quickly._

Dobby swallowed. "There is one thing, Holly Potter." He glanced around nervously. "This has all happened before."

She stared at him. "The terrible things have all happened before?"

"It will be very terrible, Holly Potter. You must not return to Hogwarts School. You must not!"

"I have to," she argued back. "If events as terrible as you say will unfold, then I must return. I will have to warn everyone else. I'll have to be there, to try and stop the events."

"Holly Potter is brave," sobbed Dobby. "But Holly must not. She must not!" He looked at her mournfully as the rippling sensation of her skin increased. _Damnit._

"Alright, Dobby, alright. I promise not to return." Hermione said quickly.

"Dobby must be sure," Dobby said, glancing about the room. His eyes landed on her trunk. "Dobby is sorry, Holly Potter."

Before she could say anything, Dobby raised a thin arm and snapped his fingers. Her trunk burst into flames.

Hermione stared at the firestorm consuming her effects and whirled on Dobby. "What the hell did you do that for?" She grabbed the comforter and tried to smother the flames, smoke billowing to the ceiling as the wood crackled.

As she beat the flames down, she felt her hair lengthening. Her height decreased and her skin ached from the strain of changing back into her normal appearance. The flames extinguished as the transformation ended

She rounded on Dobby, who was staring at her in surprise. "You are not Holly Potter." The elf stated.

"No, I'm not!" She snarled, rushing the little mongrel. Dobby tried to jump onto the desk as Cress decloaked with a screech, hoisting the beast by his loincloth to hold him against the wall by his throat.

"Little imp," growled Cress. "You will restore our trunk. We will pass along your message to Holly Potter as soon as we can."

"Very… sorry…" Dobby choked out. He snapped his fingers and vanished with a quiet pop.

Hermione stared at the place Dobby occupied for a moment before she turned to examine the ruins of her trunk. The outer wood was charred beyond repair, two sides and the lid reduced to ash. Her outfits were covered in soot and partially burnt through, and only two and a half of her books survived, the half-a-book only erased to page one hundred and forty-three.

Cresswell snarled at the ruins. "Damnable creature," he hissed, while Mozu slithered from her place in the hamper to curl herself around Hermione's right leg.

Hermione buried her desire to cry down within her. "At least he didn't burn the Polyjuice," she said as she walked to the wardrobe and drank the next vial.

Shuddering as she regained Holly's persona, she walked downstairs and headed straight for Tom. He set down the mug he was cleaning at her approach. "What can I do for you, Miss Potter?"

"Do you know any spells that could counteract fire damage?"

* * *

She winced as another car flew past her. The force of the wind whipped at her hair and snapped her clothes. There was no reason for her to be stuck out here between two roads, especially not when Florin thought the moroaciă's nest was in Stan's Valley, but hey, she was just the virgin bait.

Florin's plans for the moroaciă were nicer than she gave him credit for. The ritual he crafted was an amalgamation of the one they used to dispose of Voldemort's soul shard and a traditional exorcism with modified elements. Florin had worked on the runic emblem they would use for the past two weeks, forging the enormous circlet that would prevent the moroaciă from escaping. Of course, they needed to trap her in it first, but that was of no consequence.

They had spent three days of work on the ritual. She was relegated to weaving snares from hawthorn and wild rose by hand, while Florin buried the steel emblem in the forest clearing she would be lead the moroaciă back to. She would have preferred his job; weaving branches of thorns was an excruciating task, even with the yard gloves Florin provided. Any pricks to her fingers would render the branch at fault useless, and she would have to undo the entire length and reweave a fresh branch into it.

While she detested the physical labor, she could ignore the ache in her arms if it meant they wouldn't perform a summary execution. Florin's ritual would attempt to draw the 'evil' of the strigoi's influence out of the moroaciă entirely. The thorns would leech the material darkness while the runes in the steel emblem would cleanse the soul. Mind and body would be returned to their state as they were before the induction as a vampire.

Florin hoped it would be a corpse. While strigoi could raise the dead if they so desired, it was rather uncommon, and all the bloodshed pointed to more than one mouth to feed. He argued that the strigoi would need more blood to maintain the reinvigoration of the corpse. She declined not to argue about it and returned her full attention to her weaving.

_If only I could have used magic. _The thought was bitter, and pointless besides. Spells could not be used to ease the craft as the introduction of a magical presence spoiled ritual ingredients, effectively dousing them with the caster's magical signature. Rituals were something to be done by hand, and hand alone.

She inhaled as another car whizzed by, fear evident on the driver's face. No doubt her current position would strengthen the legend of the highway demon, or whatever name the muggles were ascribing to the moroaciă's actions. Florin had insisted that she wait until midnight precisely to lure the vampire closer with her blood. Until then she was stuck along a random road the creature _might_ be close to. Though the way the evening had gone, it was more likely that it was somewhere else, and would only appear after her cut.

Holly shivered and checked her watch. Twenty seconds until midnight.

She readied the small knife and kept an eye on her watch. Four seconds… three seconds… two…

She winced as the pain cut across her thenar and waited for the blood to pool in her palm. Her hand flung upward; the blood scattered into the wind. She wrapped her hand with gauze, the knife tucked securely into her pants pocket.

Six minutes passed when a shape landed in the corner opposite her own.

The moroaciă rose. The woman's skin was a pale white, no doubt enhanced with her transformation. Her eyes shone a piercing light blue, her dark auburn hair matted and tangled, with leaves and bits of dirt and caked blood in the thick tresses. Her clothes were similarly stained in primarily rust-colored blotches, with the much lighter brown color from dirt and the light green of grass also present.

The moroaciă stared at her, chest heaving. It opened its mouth to display its fangs and screeched. Then it charged.

"Erucae." Her bangles crackled as she rocketed back into the darkness of the woods. The moroaciă screeched again, the sounds of snapping branches and rustled leaves behind her.

She rocketed through the forest, careful to follow the sand path laid out by Florin. The moroaciă's panting was becoming louder and louder, the sounds of her carnage nearing as they sped through the thicket. _Goddamnit Florin, why place the emblem so far from the initial point?_

Holly felt the bandage around her hand loosen as another rocketing charm shot past her palm. Apparently, she hadn't affixed it as well as she thought.

The loose bandage tore free, the open wound enticing the moroaciă further if her stupid scream was any indication.

As she rounded a tree, Holly's eyes caught the briefest glint of the snares in the moonlight, the grotto with Florin's emblem behind them. She tucked her feet in close, narrowly clearing their reach.

The moroaciă was not so lucky. She smacked into the thorny ropes and screamed in pain and rage as the needles stabbed at her skin.

Holly landed directly beyond the emblem and turned to see the moroaciă, fall to the ground with a sickly thump. Her momentum carried her into the runic circle, the thorn ropes pinning her limbs to her torso, her screams still attempting to break their eardrums as she writhed.

She panted as Florin appeared from the tree line. Without a word, he walked to the edge of overturned dirt, his stave in hand.

He slammed its base into the ground. A deep green light bathed the clearing, emanating from the emblems beneath the ground.

The moroaciă screamed. Her fangs flashed as one arm wriggled free from the net. She clawed at the thorns around her legs, ripping apart two days of careful work in an instant.

Florin ignored her movements, reciting Latin too fast for Holly to properly hear. The green lights pulsed grotesquely as the light flowing along the rim of the circle in a pyre flickered in time to Florin's chants.

The moroaciă was able to stand on her feet now, heedless of the cords that encircled her torso and right arm. She bared her fangs, the sound of her scream cut off from the rest of the world, and lunged at Florin. The eldritch beam flew into place between him and her. The moroaciă collapsed back into the circle and staggered to her feet. She opened her mouth again, her eyes following the beam as it rotated around her. She hesitated… hesitated… and then she leaped.

Impossibly, the beam sped along its track to halt her escape for a second time to knock her back onto her ass. She glared with furious hatred as Florin's clothes began to swirl from an invisible wind, his cross-pendant whipping around his neck. His chants bled closer and closer together as the light shone from beneath the earth. It grew brighter and brighter and faded with a sudden flash.

Florin collapsed to his knees, his weight on his stave, and muttered a spell under his breath. The snares, now leaking rich crimson blood, incinerated.

Holly strode to his side and helped him to his feet. He didn't thank her—he never did—and she ignored his trembling figure. She held out her arm and gestured to the unconscious woman. "Enervate."

The woman's eyes fluttered open. She groaned, rolling from her side to brace herself up on her arms, her limbs traced in red scratches from the thorns. "What…" she muttered, her accent and cadence marking her as a native. "Where am I?" She looked up at them, her eyes swimming with questions. "Who are you?" As her mouth shut, Holly caught a flash of fangs.

"Are you a witch or a muggle?" Florin asked harshly. Holly glanced at him. _He must have seen them, too. _If his ritual worked correctly, the woman before them would not still possess her fangs.

The woman stared at him, her blue eyes wide and uncomprehending. "What is a muggle?"

"A person who cannot cast magic." Holly cut across her mentor as he glared at the ground. "This will be a shock to you, but every magical thing you have ever heard of exists."

The woman stared at her in bewilderment. "You are crazy," she whispered. "Crazy. Do you work with him?"

"Him?" asked Florin.

"The man at the bar," she was beginning to panic. _Shit. _"Did he bring me to you, to this forest?" She scrambled backward. Her eyes darted around wildly. "Why are we in the forest? Where are we? I… I will scream if I must."

"Peace, child." Florin sighed. "I and my daughter are not here to harm you, or traffic you, or whatever other ideas you have racing through your mind. Holly, prove we are what we say."

Holly glanced at him and lifted her arm. A soft glow and several pigeons emerged from her bangles. They cooed as they flocked to the edge of the trees.

The woman swallowed. "How did you do that?"

"Magic," replied Holly. "It is real, and it is something you never should have known about. For the past month, you have been enslaved to the man you spoke of. He, as a vampire, has used you to hunt and to feed. Lick your lips if you do not believe me."

The woman tentatively did as she said. Her tongue ran over the points her incisors were now carved into. "My… my teeth…" she murmured.

She stared at the ground for a few minutes of introspection. "You… you said I—became—a vampire?" She asked, her eyes glancing at Florin before they attached to Holly.

Holly nodded. "You were. My father and I devised a ritual to remove his control from you. It was supposed to revert your body to one of a human again."

"Supposed to?" The woman stuttered. "How… how did it go wrong?"

"It was not a licensed ritual; we created it ourselves. You are the first moroi to experience it." Florin said. "If all went as planned, we would have checked you over, stolen your memories, and sent you on your way. But as the ritual did not go as expected, we must ask you to come with us."

The woman shuddered. "You are… arresting me? You are a magic police?"

Holly laughed. "Something like that," she smiled at Florin's eye roll and offered her hand. "Can you remember your name, miss?"

The woman stared at her hand for the briefest of moments. "I… didn't do that to you, did I?" She asked. Her voice shook.

Holly withdrew her hand to see the cut she made earlier ooze fresh blood. "No. I did it to myself." She dug in her pocket with her good hand, pulling a roll of gauze free to bandage the wound, again.

"And I've been drinking blood for an entire month?" The woman asked, raising her hands to stare at them. Holly looked at Florin, whose eyes had not yet left the woman's form. "Oh my God."

"It is not a pleasant thing that has happened to you," Florin admitted. The woman looked at him. "But if you would come with us, so we may determine if you are still a threat to others, it would be greatly appreciated. The woman nodded, still in a daze, and Florin offered her his hand. She took it, and he pulled her across the emblem's line.

Forty minutes later, Holly sat in her chair inside of Florin's trailer. Alexandra, the world's first former moroaciă, was in Florin's shower, removing a month of filth from her body as Florin poured over his tomes, searching for an explanation as to why his ritual didn't work.

"So," she asked after Florin cursed and threw another journal against the wall. "Why are we keeping her alive?"

Florin looked at her, a scowl on his face. "What do you mean why are we keeping her alive? Do you not want her alive?"

"Of course, I want her alive," she glared at him as he pulled another sugarcane soda from his fridge. She paused to gather her thoughts. "Look, the Florin I know? He would have disposed of any moroi without any elaborate ritual. He wouldn't try to remove the evil within, he would have chalked the death up to an unfortunate fate and moved to the next monster." Florin fell into the seat across from her as she talked.

"That's why I have to ask. You normally wouldn't attempt to craft a ritual like this, and you certainly wouldn't accept a half-healed result. So why are we keeping her alive?"

Florin exhaled through his nose. "Our argument was about this topic. Why I acted so swiftly, why I killed without mercy. And… your absence changed my opinion."

She sat back in her chair as he continued. "When I told you to leave… I didn't think you would leave so quickly. I didn't think of how my… crusade, as you so often phrased it, made you feel. If I could dispose of the soul shard that resided within you, if I gave you a chance, why didn't I present a chance to others?"

His eyes rose from the table to her own. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "I should not have been so dismissive of your argument, of your feelings. I expected you to be with me, for us to reconcile before the end of the week, and when you were gone…" His speech dwindled; his eyes unfocused in the past.

"I shouldn't have chased my family away." He finally uttered. "And in the two years without you, I have rethought my approach to my hunts, my role as a Solomonari. We were once named for the wisest king of Israel, and now we are an order of murder and spite. My letter to you was a chance to prove that I have changed."

His words stopped as she hugged him. After a beat of silence, he hugged her back. "I'm sorry too," Holly breathed shakily. "I shouldn't have yelled at you as I did. The insults I used…"

"Are forgiven," Florin cut her off. "We must be more patient with each other, shouldn't we?"

She gave a weak laugh and pulled away. "We will be."

A slight cough brought their attention to their guest. "Sorry," Alexandra replied, clad in an olive-green towel. "But could one of you magic me some clothing, please?"

Florin drained his soda and transfigured the bottle into a pair of sweatpants. A pillowcase flew from his bed and elongated into a long-sleeved shirt. "Thank you," the woman returned to the bathroom, her cheeks tinged with embarrassment.

Holly looked at him. "How much are we going to tell her?" She said, returning to her seat. Florin opened the fridge and procured another four bottles of soda.

"Everything," he replied as he returned to his seat. "We'll see what all she remembers. Explain the basics of our world. And give her a test to see if she still desires blood or not." He passed her an orange cream soda.

Holly undid the bottlecap. _It is going to be a long night._


	19. Enemies Defied and Conquered

**Chapter Nineteen: Enemies Defied and Conquered**

* * *

****Reviewer Responses****

**AnimeA55Kicker:** I wasn't originally intending to have that much about Holly's background when writing the last chapter. Originally, Florin was a lot grouchier and cynical about everything, and Holly's introspective moments weren't part of the chapter. A burst of inspiration led to all the backstory. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

**Fast Frank: **Thank you for letting me know about the error. Apparently, Microsoft and Grammarly aren't as great as I thought. To everyone else, feel free to let me know when there are grammatical/spelling/general mistakes; I try to catch them all before I post but mistakes will slip through the cracks.

**The Shadows Mistress: **I've never played Dnd; all I really know about it are the parts that _Stranger Things_ borrows from it, but I'll take your word for its reliance on English/well-known monsters and fantasy elements. I'm happy you find the various magical bits interesting. There's a lot more of that to come with later chapters.

**Galligar: **I highly doubt you'll ever read this, but your review brings up an interesting point, so I'll talk about it. Hermione's soul is not consumed by Cresswell's magic or influence or anything like that. She is still entirely herself, and entirely in control of her own soul. Cresswell's essence is bound to her physical being and magic, not to her soul. She didn't trade her soul for his muscle.

"**It sucks to be a vampire." –Cedric Diggory, probably.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

"Another cone, Holly?"

Hermione's head withdrew itself from her book's spine. "No thank you, Mister Fortescue," she smiled as the man approached from his parlor's entrance. "Truthfully, I only bought the first so I could have an excuse to visit your patio. Not that the ice cream isn't delicious," she added. "Mozu wanted some fresh air in the sun." The snake on her shoulders didn't so much as wiggle.

"Of course," Mr. Fortescue winked as he sat down in the wrought-iron chair beside her. "What are you reading about today?"

"Some personal knowledge on dinosaurs." She held in a sigh as the fourth cone of Pumpkin Marmalade emerged onto the table. The man checked on her every hour, a cone of whatever flavor she had selected for that day in hand. She must have been through fifty ice creams of varying flavors, including strawberry and peanut butter, honeycomb cola, peppermint moor, tropical habanero, tongue-turvey (a horrid mix of banana slices, chocolate, pistachios, and marshmallows), earl grey and lavender, salted caramel blondie, butter pecan, and 'fort builder', which was the most interesting visually as the peanuts would dig through the ice cream and build forts out of the pretzel sticks and chocolate chunks therein.

Mr. Fortescue's eyebrows scrunched together. "Dinosaurs?"

"They're a muggle explanation for dragon bones. It's funny, all the muggle legends of dragons are attributed to early discoveries of dinosaur bones." Mr. Fortescue's puzzlement turned to laughter as she resigned herself to her fate and began to lick at the offered cone. "In their own special way, they've found the truth without knowing."

"In their own quirky ways," agreed Mr. Fortescue as his chuckles faded. "Muggles have been inventive in ridding themselves of magic, have they?"

"They make up for it in some areas," replied Hermione. "You should ask about coffee. I'm sure it would be a great flavor to add to your pantheon."

"Cough-ee? Sounds like an illness." Mr. Fortescue rose. "Although if my chief taste-tester thinks it worthwhile, I'll give it a whirl."

"Thanks for the ice cream," Hermione called after him. He waved his arm as he stepped back into his shop.

She opened her robe and withdrew her flask as the parlor door closed. One disgusting sip later and she was good to go for another hour. _On-time as always, Mr. Fortescue._

She swatted at Cress's claw as he tried to take her cone for himself. "Hang on, will you?"

"Come onnnn. You don't even enjoy all the extra food!"

"I don't enjoy their novelty, no, but I do enjoy their help removing Polyjuice aftertaste." She said in a low voice. She winced as she took a bite of the scoop. "Here."

"You took the whole center from it," Cress whined as he lowered himself to the table level. In an instant, the entire ice cream, scoop, cone, and paper foil were eaten.

Hermione rolled her eyes as the bite in her mouth slowly dissolved, the contrasting flavors washing away the taste of overcooked cabbage. Although Holly's original expedition took place in June, she needed to return just before St. Ignatius's Day so they could finish their strigoi extermination.

Holly had explained her adventure to Europe after returning directly onto Hermione's sleeping form at four o'clock in the morning. After a startled brawl that ended with a good kick in Holly's stomach, the redhead recounted her adventure in Romania for Hermione's curiosity. Hermione didn't relish the thought of fighting against what was essentially a vampire, but Holly assured her it wouldn't be any problem.

_It's not her ability to handle it that I was concerned about. _Hermione swallowed the blob ice cream in her mouth. The knowledge that certain monsters from muggle lore were real was unnerving. It was one thing to know about goblins and centaurs, two races who acted like humans, who worked as accountants and a very special mounted police force, respectively. Even Cress was extremely different from how the sisters of St. Agnes portrayed them to be. He was articulate and well-mannered on occasion (if incredibly self-centered and childish most other times).

It was another idea entirely to know vampires behaved exactly like vampires. Or at least, a percentage of them did.

Hermione returned to the book Holly had brought back with her. After leaving Romania, her friend chose to visit Turin and wormed her way into _La Bibliotheca dei Demoni_, the largest collection of demonic texts in Western Europe. Incredibly, Holly managed to pilfer a tome on the basics of demons for her. Even though the tome wasn't entirely accurate (Cress often read over her shoulder and pointed out mistakes) it was a thoughtful gift, one Hermione intended to pay back.

Unfortunately, that return would have to wait. Tom's attempts to restore her items from Dobby's attack mostly failed. Anything that incinerated, along with the trunk itself, was ruined. Her withdraw from this year's Hogwarts fund provided the same amount it gave the previous year, fifty galleons, and although she managed to snag a less-worn trunk from Cranville Quincy's, her replacement books and clothes left her with little pocket change for a present purchase.

_Not to mention the amount needed for this year's slew of textbooks. _Her book list for her second year was absurd, with seven books by a monster hunter named Gilderoy Lockhart, along with the Standard Book of Spells, grade two. _The new DADA teacher must be a fan._

_Holly will offer to buy the new books for me once she's back. _Hermione stared at the page in front of her, adrift in her thoughts again. _Too bad she won't._ _My eidetic memory will be enough; I only need to read her copies to pass._ Her list of debts to Holly had already grown too long, with the separate rooms from last year and the two summers of free meals. It wasn't going to grow anymore. The redhead gave enough as it was.

At least her wand hadn't needed replacement. Ollivander's assessment essentially amounted to "I can use Grim tendon in future wands without it combusting". His enthusiasm for his breakthrough did not reach Hermione; she was rather put out that her wand _could_ have combusted in her hand in the first place.

"Holly?" she ignored the initial call, used to the stares and confirmations of who she was by now. "Holly!" Her mind clicked at the second utterance.

She turned to her left to see that the one calling her was Daphne Greengrass.

* * *

Daphne forced herself to keep still, her feet planted to the floor and her neck and eyes aimlessly focused on an umbrella stand. Draco stood to her right, fiddling with the objects on the mantlepiece.

He straightened as the fireplace flared to life in green flames. Lucius stepped through; his brow low in a scowl. "Dobby!"

The elf appeared in an instant. The little creature was the least liked and worst treated of the elves in the Malfoy's household. His only cover, a musty, stained pillowcase, was the worst cleaned of all the elves' clothes, and Daphne suspected he was fed the least. On two occasions Astoria tried to slip him food, but as she was not a Malfoy, she was unable to call him and pass him any.

"Fetch the locked chest from my office. Drop it, and you will be forced to drink the spilled concoctions." Lucius ordered. Dobby bowed and vanished with a crack.

Lucius rubbed his temple. "Draco, Daphne. Why are you beside the fireplace?"

"We were going to purchase my broom today, Father," Draco said. "Did that protection bill end up passing today?" _I'll need to ask Hannah about that. Surely, he doesn't mean the Muggle Protection Act the Weasley was scrounging support for last year._

"What do you think?" Lucius replied. Draco looked at the floor. "Daphne. Why are you here?"

"I have been meaning to visit Flourish and Blotts for some time, Mr. Malfoy. I was hoping to find a tome on runes, and I knew of your planned visit with Draco."

Lucius signaled for her to stop talking. She kept her face blank as her fist tightened.

"We can always go later in the week, Father," Draco suggested.

Before Lucius could speak, Dobby reappeared. A small wooden box, blackened with varnish, was clutched in his hands. Daphne refused to give it more than a glance. Curiosity was a frequent trap from her younger years.

Lucius took the box from Dobby's hands. "Inform my wife that Daphne and Draco will be accompanying me to Diagon."

"Yes sir," Dobby bowed and vanished.

Lucius eyed the pair of them. "We are visiting Borgin and Burkes before we reach Diagon. While we are in the shop. Do not. Touch. Anything." He warned.

"Yes, Father," Draco replied. Daphne settled for a nod.

Lucius threw a smatter of powder into the flames, the box under his arm. He stepped fearlessly into the green fire, "Borgin and Burkes" echoed on his tongue as he disappeared.

"Ladies first." Draco grinned as he held out the container.

"Shouldn't you be the one going then?" Daphne smirked at his affronted look as she tossed the powder and strode forward. "Borgin and Burkes."

She ignored the vertigo as she strode past flue after flue, her eyes trained on the path ahead. In less than five seconds she was through the flames, just able to see Lucius's arm extended for her.

"Thank you," she took his arm and took care to step over the grate as the ash on her clothing flaked away to return to the flue. She stepped aside and froze at the sight of a jar of five brown skulls suspended in liquid, their jaws absent. Next to the skulls lay a glittering opal necklace, the tag reading 'CAUTION – DO NOT TOUCH – CURSED – Has claimed the lives of nineteen muggles to date'.

The flames flickered behind her, their height casting shadows about the store as Draco came through, a pleased look on his face.

"Ah, Mister Malfoy," a seedy man emerged from the backroom to stand at the counter. "I thought I heard the floo. Anything from the back today?"

"Unfortunately, I'm here to sell, Borgin." Lucius smiled politely. "With the new muggle bill passing today, I found it prudent to remove various embarrassments from my manor."

"Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere," said Borgin as he opened the box. "Nothing I need to avoid touching in here, is there?"

Daphne tuned the duo out as she examined the store's inventory. Draco was busy scrutinizing a withered hand at rest on a cushion. Blobs of wax decorated the hand's wrist and palm, and the pinky finger itself was completely coated.

She stepped around a glass case that contained a bloodstained bridal veil (which turned and watched her pass) and examined a jumble of what looked like mummified ape hands hanging over a cabinet the size of a refrigerator. One of the cabinet doors was open, with what looked like a shrunken elephant fetus on the second shelf from the top. The tag by the preserved corpse read 'useful to dream up an imaginative solution'.

In the front window of the store lay several objects whose tags Daphne could not read, but the objects themselves were more delicate in their sensibilities than the deep stock. The spread provided an air more akin to a secondhand shop than a black market.

She shrunk back as a massive man stepped past, his beard and moleskin coat identifying him as the school's game warden.

"What do you suppose that fat oaf's doing down here?" Draco asked as he craned his neck around her. "Selling items pilfered from Hogwarts, you think?"

"I'd wager he's a trader for the giant clans." Draco chuckled, a satisfied smirk on his face. He moved back toward the counter to study his father's debate skills.

Daphne rolled her eyes. She felt no guilt over her statements. After the uproar from her heroics at the end of term, she desperately needed to pocket one member of the Malfoy family. Even if it was the slippery ponce.

"Come along," Lucius's voice called to her. She arched her head over her shoulder and followed Lucius and Draco out the door.

She kept a submissive pace behind the blonds as they reached the fork that bled into Diagon. The noise of the crowd grew at their approach, and she had to stop moving to adjust her eyes to the light. Gazing at the mass of shoppers, she caught a flash of red hair across the street.

Lucius observed the shuffles of the crowd with disinterest. "I trust you have no desire to tailgate us during our purchase."

"Not really," she tilted her chin low and blinked her eyes. "Would you prefer for me to meet you after my transaction is complete?"

"We will join you," Lucius decided. He strode into the street, his presence capturing a berth as wide as Hagrid's. Draco followed in his wake.

Daphne relaxed her shoulders and cracked her neck as she crossed the Alley toward Fortescue's. _How Narcissa manages to spend her life poised at every moment is beyond me._

"Holly? Holly!" The redhead looked up at the second utterance of her name.

"Daphne?"

She glanced up and down the street and vaulted over the patio fence. "Hey. How's summer been?" The badger asked. She threw a glare at the teenagers staring at her, their shared knickerbocker glory forgotten at her sudden athleticism. They started and returned their attention to their dessert, right as their shared spoon dripped onto the girl's outfit.

Daphne snickered and focused her attention on Holly. "Fine," her friend replied, flashing an impeccable smile. "How has yours been?"

"Not too bad," she arched her neck to confirm the Malfoys had not checked for her among the throng. The last thing she needed was to be seen with their mortal enemy. "Were you able to purchase a burner?"

"Yes," Holly replied. "You don't need to lie, you know."

"What?"

"Your summer." Holly closed her book and tucked it into her schoolbag. "Did the Malfoys overreact about your involvement in the defense of the Philosopher's Stone?"

Daphne's lips parted in a minute 'o' at her words. She stared at Holly as her face froze into a mask of neutrality. Holly stared back.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Hermione and I figured you'd catch some hell from them and their high standards." Holly pulled out her wand as she pulled a napkin free from the dispenser on the table. "Fluxus Atramento."

Daphne took in a silent breath as Holly wrote letters onto the paper. The wind blew cool against her neck and scattered the pile of napkins the couple used to clean at the girl's top. The napkin in front of her didn't so much as ruffle.

"So," Holly stowed her wand and looked Daphne in the eyes as she flipped the napkin around. Daphne broke contact to read the message. Her exhale shook.

"_Not Holly. Hermione. Polyjuice."_

Her eyes rose from the paper to look at 'Holly'. The redhead's face bore an intense gaze. "How do you really feel?"

Daphne stared at Hermione. _Goddamnit. She fooled me. Goddamnit._

"Am I truly so easily read?" she asked.

Hermione ignored her. Her wand flicked out and she directed it at the napkin. A mumbled curse spit a small flame at the paper. In seconds, it was ash.

Daphne watched the dust vanish in the breeze. "I would rather focus on other things."

"Such as?" Hermione asked.

"Runes." Daphne inclined her head towards the entrance of Flourish and Blotts. "Books about runes."

Hermione shrugged. "After you."

Daphne led the way back out to the street, through Fortescue's storefront. Her mind circled Hermione's words, her breathing in line with her footsteps. _Focus on other things._

"Am I going to get a hello?" a voice rasped from above them. Daphne paused to look at the blank space above Hermione's head.

"Hello Cresswell," she looked down and her eye caught at Hermione's shoulders. "Hello, Mozu."

The snake did not move in the slightest. Cresswell grumbled about 'mortals without respect'.

"Where is Holly at?" Hermione shrugged as they crossed the alley. The shade of the buildings forced Daphne to involuntarily shiver.

"In a different place," Hermione replied. "I'll make sure she tells you once she is back."

Daphne glared at her. Holly's mask did not flinch.

Flourish and Blotts was as disorganized as it was the previous year. Bookcases adorned the walls in a wallpaper of warm red, green, blue, brown, and grey spines. Several books were left to hover in conic spirals haphazardly arranged around the rows. A bored clerk sat on a metal chair that looked incredibly uncomfortable, and a stairwell led up to a first-floor landing with more bookshelves and plush chairs. A wizard camera stood in front of a table in the very back of the ground floor's area, with piles of books stacked beside it. Daphne vaguely recognized the man sat in a mustard-yellow chair as Lenny, the photographer who took photos of her and the Malfoys when the story of her return first broke.

In addition to the books, the store's foyer was full to burst with magicians. Even with all the hustle from last year, Daphne had never seen the bookshop this packed._ Everyone must be trying to grab their schoolbooks at once._

"Here for the Gilderoy Lockhart book signing? It's about to start, so please come back later if you are here for..." The clerk's eyes looked them over before his eyes popped open, fixated on Hermione's face. He scrambled to attention, and the chair shifted forward with his weight to jostle him against the counter. "Holly Potter!"

Daphne scoffed at his change in demeanor and glanced at Hermione to see she was in full 'Holly Potter' mode, complete with a slouch, rolled up sleeves, and a cocky grin on her face. "We're just browsing for now. Though, we don't want to take up space for when Lockhart arrives…"

"Of course, of course!" The clerk said, nodding enthusiastically. "Take all the time you would like!"

'Holly' grinned at him and pulled Daphne past the counter and to the right of the front door. "What area did you want to look at again?"

"Runes."

"Any particular titles?"

"Are people always like that with her?" Daphne questioned as she bent down to examine the tomes on the shelf. A flash of anger, a single matchstick, flickered within her. "She flashes a grin; they remember she's the Girl-Who-Lived and they swoon?"

Hermione tilted her head to the right. "Oftentimes, yes."

_Must be nice to be handed everything. _Daphne craned her neck and scanned the titles and authors. Anything to free her mind from the track it was on.

She chose one with the title _The Art of Inscription _as a male voice sounded behind her. "What are you doing here?"

Daphne glanced upward. To her left was the horrified face of Ronald Weasley staring down at her. To her right, Hermione had dropped her 'Holly' persona. Her back stood ramrod straight, her hands were arranged in a feigned nonchalance, her muscles prepared to react.

"Ronald," Daphne said as she rose from the bottom shelf. She faced Hermione, mouthed 'Holly, remember', and turned back to the ginger Gryffindor.

"It's Ron," he said, his jaw set. "What are you doing out here with Holly, Greengrass?"

"Well, Weasley," she smirked at his wince. _If you don't want to play first names, that's fine with me. _The bonfire in her lessened now that she had a target_. _"If you must know, Holly and I are…"

"Yes?!" Ron gestured with his hands as she threw her head back.

"Shopping." The corner of her mouth turned up at Ron's frustration with her actions. "Why are you in here, Weasley? Purchasing your set of Lockhart's books too?"

Weasley blinked. "Yea… yeah." He admitted. _A rationale to throw him off balance. It's almost too easy._ "But still! Someone like her shouldn't be hanging out with a… with you."

Daphne smiled, only a hint of her teeth visible. "And what do you mean by that? It seems you've forgotten which House I am in at Hogwarts. Strange, given how much of a splash I made at the Leaving Feast." She recognized the sound of applause from the wizards around her. _Perfect. Another bait should do it. _"I have to wonder if all Gryffindor's are so slow-witted they instinctively believe anyone that isn't Gryffindor to be a Slytherin."

Weasley's ears were now the same color as his robe's Gryffindor emblem. "I meant Holly Potter shouldn't be running around with a Malfoy!" He snapped. "Who knows what kind of twisted path you might lead her on?!"

Daphne's teeth glittered in the imposing silence. Weasley's brain seemed to switch on. He turned to witness the baleful glare of his mother near the front of the line, and the dreadful quiet that was louder than the previous applause.

"Holly Potter?" Demanded the man of the hour. Gilderoy Lockhart rose and strode around the table, the crowd parting to permit access to his fellow celebrity. "As we live and breathe!" He exclaimed, his wavy poof of hair trembling as he seized 'Holly' around her shoulders, dragging her to the front of the queue to a smatter of applause.

Lockhart situated Holly beside him and straightened his disgustingly innocent-blue robes as 'Holly' slipped her right hand into her pocket, a sheepish grin on her face. Lockhart took Hermione's left hand and shook it as Lenny's camera went off in a puff of purple smoke.

As Lockhart began babbling about "the extraordinary moment" Daphne felt a hand fall onto her shoulder. She straightened and turned to see Lucius. "Your purchase?" Lucius inquired.

"I still need to pay for it," she gestured to the back of the foyer. "A show has the store a little preoccupied." Her heart laughed at the image of Weasley being taken to task by his parents as the camera flashed.

Lucius's lip curled in distaste as Lockhart continued. "I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

Daphne snorted as the assemblage began to cheer. "He is going to be a professor?"

"Another inane idea of Dumbledore's, no doubt," Lucius grumbled. "See that you make it out of here in five—" His sentence trailed away as the Weasley family bustled through the throng. Mrs. Weasley was still digging into Ronald, with Mr. Weasley and the twins behind them.

Last in line was a young girl with long red hair, who, as she passed, turned to glare at Daphne. Her lack of visual communication with her feet saw the bagged stack of secondhand books in her arms brush against a witch waiting in line to see Lockhart; whose indignant "HEY!" caused the young girl to overcorrect, speed up, and plow straight into Lucius's side with some force.

Lucius fell against the countertop as the girl fell to the ground, her books tumbling from her paper bag to scatter along the floor. "Father!" Draco said as he moved forward, rounding on the girl as she began to cry.

"Button it," Daphne whispered into his ear as she set to gather the books, slipping them into the girl's bag.

"What have you done to my daughter, Malfoy!?" Mr. Weasley shouted as he emerged through the doorframe. "Move aside, my daughter is hurt!"

"Calm yourself, Weasley." Lucius retorted as the crowd surged up the stairwell to make room. "Your daughter tripped and ran me into the countertop, there's no severe harm." His eyes shone with malice as one of the twins helped his sister to her feet.

"Here," Lucius picked the last two books from the ground and dropped them into the girl's bag. "No harm was done," he presented a tight-lipped smile, not dissimilar from the one he used with Borgin.

"Sorry," Ginny sputtered as Mr. Weasley ushered her out the door. The three redheads joined the others and began a swift walk up the Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron.

Lucius straightened his robes as Daphne stepped up to the counter. "Thanks for all the help with that," 'Holly' said as she slipped into the line after her, a stack of Lockhart's books with her. "It was nice of you to shove me to the gossip hounds."

"Better you than me," Daphne said as the clerk rang up her total. She ignored the steely frown Lucius was giving her and the surprised expression on Draco's face. She coughed. "Holly, this is my benefactor, Lucius Malfoy. Mister Malfoy, this is my schoolmate, Holly Potter."

She counted out the galleons, ignoring the troubled look on the clerk's face as 'Holly' spoke. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Lord Malfoy. I cannot wait for the day we will be trading messages in the Wizengamot to further our strong nation."

As the whispers from the other wizards in the queue grew, Daphne had to snap her fingers to reclaim the clerk's attention. He nodded and slid the tome to her, his eyes playing ping-pong with the magicians by her sides.

She chanced a look at the Malfoys. Draco's mouth hung open, while his father's face conveyed an equal amount of shock without the embarrassing performance as a human flycatcher. "The same to you, Lady Potter." He turned to her with upturned eyelids. "Daphne, Draco. Follow me."

Mercifully, 'Holly' didn't speak again as the trio left the bookshop.

They walked in silence towards Twilfitt and Tattings. _My placation of the Weasley's should balance out with me being friendly with a halfblood. _Her heart thudded against her ribcage. _Shouldn't it?_

The silence lingered. Daphne leaned toward Draco.

"So, what kind of broom did you decide on?"

* * *

Holly hummed the lyrics of _Made of Stone _as she slid off Ioana's back. The parking lot for Poenari Citadel was empty of customers, the tours temporarily shut down for renovations. Her eyes rose to search for the murky blotch of battlement against the night sky. "You think he's out hunting?"

"It ought to have returned home by now," Florin said as he double-checked the ingredients inside of Ioana's saddlebags. "It would not do it good to stray far on the eve of easy death."

Holly bit her lip. Florin's tomes on strigoi provided an extensive process for their elimination. Capture it. Remove the heart, carve it in two, and soak it in the fat of a pig killed on St. Ignatius's Day. Suture the heart back together with iron needles, return it to the strigoi's chest, and bury the corpse face down to send it to a permanent afterlife. Alexandra was disgusted by their nonchalance and ran from the trailer to vomit in peace. She rejected the offer to attend their mission and instead chose to remain with Florin's RV.

Holly was surprised Florin had allowed her to stay with him, but her lack of magical knowledge, fragmented memories, and half-vampiric qualities left her without any real options. Her last name was still a mystery, her only memories those she made under the domination of the strigoi. She only thought her name was Alexandra from the strigoi's address of her, and fear of the unknown caused her to curl into a ball and refuse interaction.

Florin's examinations from the past month revealed that although her scent and mind were human, her body was far from it. The tiny blip of magic that flourished within muggles could barely sustain her vampiric alterations, leaving her sluggish and sickly if she was not kept close to a wizard's magical core. Florin theorized that blood could prevent her deterioration, but Alexandra refused to drink it. Without a home in either world, she was stuck with Florin until a better solution could be arranged.

Holly squinted at the large catwalk leading up to the crumbling ruins. "Stairmaster 5000," She grumbled.

"Whistle once you are at the foot of the stairs and send the missive," Florin instructed as he pulled the whistle from his neck and passed it to her. She slipped it on as he pulled a parchment from his pocket. "Cast a loud spell once he's routed and I will move into the battlement."

Holly slipped the missive it into her pants as he apparated to the castle's ravine without a sound. She gave the structure a final look and started up the path.

Frogs croaked as she crept along the path to the ruins. The citadel that once towered over the mountain was now a scrap of its former glory. A solitary battlement loomed over what must have been an outer wall, the rest of the castle lost to time.

She glanced at her watch. Quarter till midnight.

She quickened her pace, the Ranft stones in her leg clacking with every stride. She winced at the sound as _Made of Stone's _chorus looped inside her head.

Five minutes later her whistle sounded. It bounced on her chest as she exhaled and released the missive. The letter took flight, soaring up to the citadel. Her eyes trained on it as she started up the stairs.

Her bangles rotated as her mouth uttered the spell she needed. "Homenum revelio."

A black pulse spawned from her person. It fluttered over the ground, fleeing her like a ripple from a drop of water, and scaled the castle's outer edge. A red line pierced the battlement to return to her. _Exactly where we thought he would be._

Her bangles glowed with light as she made her way up the scaffolding, the pace of the river gentle in the night air.

The rush of the river grew her ears as she neared the top. She gagged.

The smell of death overpowered the sound of the river. Corpses, both animal and human, littered the cramped hallway. A few bodies hung on chains thrown over the wall. Some were pale, their bodies intact, with pale flesh and yellow eyes. Others were emancipated from their limbs and torsos. A pile of what looked like kidneys rotted in a corner; the back half of what may have been a deer lay against the wall. Blood soaked the walkway, the tang of iron nearly palpable.

Holly tried her best not to breathe in as she stepped through the passageway. Her legs brushed against pieces of the dead, and she shuddered as she broke from the wall's shadow.

She took the shortcut that bypassed the length of the ruin and walked to the battlement. Candles lit the doorway, with the inner battlement lit similarly. In the dim light, she could make out a wooden table covered in gore and the strigoi.

"You are a Solomonari?" The strigoi asked as she stepped through the doorway. "Surely you are too young?" He laughed as he crumpled the missive in his hand and cast it aside.

"The standards of a dying organization tend to lower." She replied as he examined her. "I must ask you to desist your reckless course of action. The Statute of Secrecy must be upheld, and if you are unwilling to abide by the wizarding programs in place for your kind, we will have no choice but to dispose of you."

"Ha! Too bad I cannot recognize your authority. Your secret world of magic can fuck itself."

The strigoi flashed a wide smile. "There is no world I know but this. Why should I submit when the world prevented my death?"

"You are a muggle?"

The strigoi shrugged. "I was a normal citizen. Nice parents. Six brothers. I put a gun in my mouth, blew off my head, and found myself awake. I clawed from my grave to discover power I never possessed before." He threw his hands wide, his nails glinting in the candlelight. "If you are here to avenge the man with the stick, I cannot fault your actions. But I will not relinquish my new leash so easily!" It grinned at her; its mouth unhinged.

Holly cast a shield charm as a magnified scream burst from the strigoi's throat. Organs and flesh landed on the floor and on her shield with wet, splattering sounds.

The table lifted to fly at her as she backed under the archway. Her shield dropped and she raised her left arm, her bangles swirling admiral blue. "Reducto."

The table splintered in half, each chunk diverting toward the battlement walls. The strigoi had leaped toward her, its maw stretching for another screech…

"Aceasta în gura strigoiului!" A Ranft stone flew from her leg bag. It widened in midair and flattened over the strigoi's mouth, forming a muzzle in the shape of two isosceles triangles.

She blasted herself backward as the strigoi lost his focus and crashed to the ground. She turned and ran, intent on taking the longer path, her heartbeat racing in her ears.

A glance over her shoulder revealed a great gray owl bearing down on her, its beak twisted in bloodlust and feathers saturated in blood. The talons extended, glittering in the light from the battlement, closing in as her bangles flashed with multicolored light. "Parva pompa."

The strigoi shrieked as an explosion of firecrackers exploded from Holly's arm. Her teeth ground at the sharp stings exploding down her arm as her sleeve incinerated. She seized the bird by the leg and pulled. It gave an indignant screech as she bashed the owl into the ground, stepping through the shortcut as it twittered in a daze.

"Lumos." The gore tunnel lit up as she raced down it, hyper-focused on her balance. A slosh sent fluid spilling over her boot as she stepped on what may have been a liver, squashing it in her hurry to the staircase.

A glance over her shoulder revealed the strigoi was upright again. Another scream pierced her ears, the pain hard enough to make her teeth rattle as she reached the causeway. A bolt of cognition told her to turn and leap to the river, but she steadied her course as another Ranft stone silenced the excruciating volume.

Blood trickled from her earlobes as she leapt forward, blasting curses promoting her height over the crumbling entranceway. Holly stared at the darkened valley, the rush of inertia in her air as she looked out over the forest.

Her mind dropped to the present and she steadied her landing, her feet connecting with the level platform. She kept up her momentum, racing to the next flight, holding her glance until she was clear of the edge.

Her head turned to see the great grey behind her. She pivoted, her lightning curse releasing and missing as the strigoi turned at the last moment. Its weight shifted and it spun around the curse, the pullback forcing it to circle in the air. Holly turned to face the rapidly approaching concrete.

She landed harder than she intended to, her ankle yelping. The poor angle sent an ache up her leg, but Holly ignored it to keep running as a weight crashed into her from behind. _Gotcha._

Her bangles whirled and she apparated back to the battlement interior. As they fell, she twisted, pressing her weight against the strigoi's back. He slammed to the floor, just shy of the room's center. Holly rolled away.

Florin's stave stuck the ground. "Activate."

Bricks on the walls shone with a dull grey aura. They launched themselves from their placements like bullets, clinking as they coalesced into a slick liquid over the strigoi's skin. Holly fired off another Ranft stone as he tried to scream, the muzzle snapping around his jaws as the transfiguration reeled the strigoi into a kneel, his shoulders thrown back, with only his head free of the caulking. His eyes promised suffering as he struggled to thrash in his bonds.

Florin poked his staff at the strigoi's chest region. The caulking fell away, and Holly heard the slip of his blade. "Hold on," she said.

Florin halted. "He said he was a muggle before he died," Holly hesitated. "Do you think we could try to purify him first?"

As Florin opened his mouth to answer the caulking cracked open. Returned to an owl, the strigoi's talons grasped the left arm of his cast. Florin swore.

The Ranft stone landed on the ground as the arm shattered away with a crackling noise like broken papier mâché. Shifting into human form, the strigoi hurled the arm at Holly. The weight threw her into the wall, her head nearly connecting with it, her legs scratched by the shards of the table. Her cushioning charm helped precious little, her mind still in a daze as she watched a jet of green miss its target and clip the edge of the battement's bricks.

She blinked and turned to see Florin pinned to the floor, the strigoi's neck moving low.

It froze. Then it began to laugh.

"A crucifix will not save you, old man," the strigoi jeered. "Even if I cannot drink from your blood, I will butcher you alive and swallow your organs!"

"Florin!" Holly screamed as brown nails plunged into Florin's chest. Blood welled to his shirt, staining it red. The strigoi licked its lips and pushed in harder.

"Incendio!" The strigoi turned to her and leapt backward from Florin as her pillar of fire incinerated where its head had been seconds prior.

"Nebulus!" A sea of fog washed from the sweep of her arm. It filled the room, creating a dense swirl that she rushed through, the spell still emanating from her bangles.

"By scent, then!" The strigoi's voice sounded. With another cast, a fifth Ranft stone cut through the air. She followed the stone, transfiguring the remains of his cast into two massive shapes on her arms.

She pulled her shoulders and arms back, ripping the fog away to see the stone latch onto the strigoi's lips. It started; eyes wide to see her arms closing in around it.

_Skruncth._

Blood seeped through her rock fists as the body stiffened. The headless cadaver fell to join its victims on the floor, no longer able to possess cognitive thought. Holly dropped the transfiguration on the bricks, their solitary forms hardening from the mass as she closed off her magic and limped to her mentor's side. "Florin?"

"Call Ioana," he coughed. "Whistle twice." She nodded and stepped onto the deck of the ruins, the small glint of metal on her lips.

As Ioana landed she heard shuffling behind her. Holly whirled around to see Florin stagger out of the tower, his hand pressed over his wound. "Will you do the ritual?" he panted.

_Always the mission first. _"Yes," she said as she unloaded the bags from Ioana as Florin dug into his medicine satchel. Ioana whined.

"I know, I know…" he said to her as she returned to the strigoi's corpse.

She summoned Florin's knife from the cobblestones and dug into the monster's chest, her anger and fear driving the blade. She hacked apart his breastbone, tearing at its chest as its blood spattered her face and t-shirt.

With terrible care, she severed the organ's arteries and pulled it into the light. The heart had not beaten since she laid eyes on it. _I doubt it ever did._

She laid the heart on the dust and gore-caked floor and lined up the knife. A sharp depression and the organ split in two.

Holly tossed Florin's knife aside and pulled the largest bag closer. A clean knife emerged from the side pocket of the satchel. From the main pocket came a piglet, frozen in stasis from the bag's inner depth.

Her watch read twelve fourteen.

The piglet squealed as she butchered it. Her mind did not revel in her actions as it had when taking it apart. The piglet was only a piglet.

The fat of the beast removed, she turned over the second bag. A paintbrush and a plastic bowl thocked on the ground.

She squeezed the fat in her palm. The spongy tissue refused to pop as its nectar dripped into the bowl. She stirred aimlessly with the paintbrush as the bowl flourished. She did not stop until more than enough grease had accumulated. Her fingers glistened.

Holly wiped her hand on her ruined shirt and picked up one side of the strigoi's heart. The paintbrush bristles rose to tickle it, coat it, stain it with piglet fat along her incision. The opposite side received symmetrical treatment.

In the third bag lay the most crucial piece. Six iron needles, each as thick as a dandelion stalk, were levitated from the satchel's confines to lay in line on the bag's clasp. Each one slipped from the right side of the heart, through the left's inner wall and out the front. Three in the front, three in the back, until the heart was sutured back to one.

Gingerly, Holly lay the heart inside the hole she wrenched it from. She rose to her feet and mumbled "Mobilicorpus".

The body bobbed in the air like a pull-toy as she made the journey down the long, long stairwell. She levitated it to the ground by the tree line and ignored the numbness growing in her arms "Moventur lutum".

A skin of dirt pulled itself from the ground. The dirt rose into the air in a single, uneven block and burst as it hit the firm earth beside it. The strigoi fluttered as she dragged the corpse to its final resting place.

She levitated it in, its arms dangling like garlands, its face to the Earth's core. The dirt ripped from the ground fell over him, sealing the dead with no hint a hole ever existed. The soil smoothed over, the original skim of grass still in place.

She apparated to Ioana's side and saw the materials were already collected. The bricks Florin had enchanted to flow at their will were restored. A bandage covered Florin's wound. His arm extended to offer a bottle of potion.

"What are we going to do about the bodies?" She asked and knocked the potion back. _Pepper-Up._

"Leave them. Let the families have some peace of mind. Even if a killer is never captured, a body to bury lets people move forward."

She mounted Ioana, the ache of tiresome energy rejuvenating her core. Ioana brayed and galloped forward, taking flight into the midnight sky.

* * *

An hour later Holly sat on the roof of the RV. Her shower rinsed the blood and filth from her body, though the smell of the muck was still in her nose. She had left her ruined shirt on the bathroom floor.

Her clean clothes clung to her in the morning air. Tears slipped over her eyelid and down her cheek as _that moment_ played itself in her mind again and again.

"Holly?" Florin called from the doorway.

"M' up here," she called back. Her voice was lost in her low tone.

Florin grunted as he pulled himself onto the roof. His footsteps thrummed on the metal as he walked to her side. He inhaled.

_How can I face him after this? _

"I'm sorry," he said. The words were like a blow to her stomach.

"I should have given you role of the enchanter rather than the bait. I shouldn't have asked you to help take actions you oppose." Her tears fell harder. "I should not have put that weight on your shoulders, and I'm sorry I didn't try to save—"

"That isn't it," she rushed out. Florin stopped talking. "I put you in danger." The strigoi's fangs flashed as it bent down. "My hesitation almost led to your death. All because I'm too stupid to see the black and white." Her throat was clogged. She took in a shuddering gasp. "I could've killed you."

She scrambled into his arms, clinging to his neck, adrift in her tears. "You could have died! And all because of me!" Her face buried into his shoulder, her body shaking from that fear, the fear of losing her father.

Florin didn't provide an answer. He held his daughter in his arms as she needed him to, warm and silent and strong as _Made of Stone _swam within his daughter's mind.

_Sometimes I, fantasize_

_When the streets are cold and lonely_

_And the cars they burn below me_

_Don't these times, fill your eyes_

_When the streets are cold and lonely_

_And the cars they burn below me_

_Are you all alone?_

_Is anybody home?_

* * *

Made of Stone_ is a rock song created by the band _The Stone Roses, a British rock band that I recently discovered and highly recommend.

* * *

**Boredguy's Grimoire:**

**Aceasta ****î****n gura strigoiului: Into the mouth of the strigoi, Romanian form of a German spell. Magics Ranft stones (which must be prepared beforehand through a ritual) to fly and adhere themselves over the mouths of a strigoi within fifteen meters of the caster. The stone serves as a muzzle to prevent the mouth from opening. It stops working after the strigoi transforms into an animal and are one use only.**

**Parva Pompa: Small fireworks; fires off multicolored, localized fireworks from the caster's wand. The fireworks are no larger than an orange.**

**Movetur Lutum: Move dirt; removes dirt from an area designed around the caster's intentions. It can also transport dirt from place to place.**


End file.
